


Replayable Danganronpa V3 (on a very long break so don't get your hopes up please)

by SfrogPlus



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Persona 5
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death Flashbacks, Despair, Endnotes are kinda important kinda not, F/F, F/M, Headaches & Migraines, Human K1-B0 (Dangan Ronpa), I'm Going to Hell, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, Leblanc is Lechance, M/M, Multi, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, PLEASE HELP ME PLAN, Persona 5 but Danganronpa V3, Sad Ouma Kokichi, Saihara Shuichi introduced instantly, THERES A TAG FOR THE FOUR DARK DEVAS OF DESTRUCTIONS, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This is a little too detailed for my taste, Wordy words of words to come, a beta but not really., bah, this is like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SfrogPlus/pseuds/SfrogPlus
Summary: This is DanganronpaV3 but Persona 5 plot. The V3rd characters are the thieves, the 2nd characters are the secondary characters, like Sojiro, as well as other added characters. And then the first characters are like the personas. But the plot has a twist, and that includes Danganronpa.Ouma looked outside, the clear blue sky fading in and out his vision like a dream, in and out and in and out... It reminded Ouma of the way his bat would clash against those slimy creatures, how he would be able to charm his friends with lies and jokes, how he would take Saihara's hat over and over...He didn't know it would happen this way.He didn't know they would get trapped here, he swears to god, he didn't know..."Hey, Kokichi, aren't you going to come eat dinner?" Asked the guy next to him., relaxing like Ouma hasn't doomed the rest of them. A grin, a scatter of space. Kaito Momota."It isn't your fault this happened, Kokichi." Said Saihara, a peaceful smile on his face and pulling Ouma up.Ouma knew it wasn't his fault. But it was his fault they would have to wait until they died.Ouma remembered those words, the first words he heard in those dreams."You are being held captive."
Relationships: Chabashira Tenko/Yumeno Himiko, Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Iruma Miu/K1-B0, Komaeda Nagito/Nanami Chiaki (past), Ouma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Shinguji Korekiyo/Yonaga Angie, Sonia Nevermind/Tanaka Gundham
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	1. The Move

_“You…” Darkness. It was pitch black, and everything was so, so_ **_despairing_ ** _. Ouma shivered at the voice, eyes scrambling._

_“are being held” The voice was feminine, of a little girl, though it was gentle, mysterious, but had no word that could quite describe it. It felt like a hidden garden, stuffed inside an ancient kingdom long forgotten and long lost, but nevertheless beautiful, disappearing slowly but never leaving. “captive.”_

_Ouma gasped as he saw light flickering around, splishing and splashing around, jumping up and down in the breathless black air, a blue butterfly fluttering around, up and down and up and down. Ouma’s eyes wandered curiously around it, relieved that it wasn’t anything bad. He always slightly feared the dark or small places. Something about them made him feel cornered._

_When he tried to speak to the strange voice, he felt something lodged in his throat, stuck in a way Ouma felt he couldn’t bother to stick his hand in his mouth all the way down to the esophagus. Not like he would ever do that, not in this lifetime, no way. Ouma reached for his neck, wrapping his small, pale hand around it after finding his way underneath his long black and white bandana- Which one could argue was a scarf. A checkered scarf. A white straightjacket, strapping him to an invisible chair._

_The voice continued through it, soothingly so and fading, “A prisoner of fate to a future that has been sealed in advance,” Ouma tightened his grip, unfeeling of pain. Just discomfort._

_“This is truly an unjust game… Your chances of winning are almost known, but…” But? What was this voice talking about? A prisoner of fate? And when did he start playing a game?_

_“If my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you… I beg you! please overcome this game and save the world…_

_“The key of victory lies within the memory of your bonds, the lies you told to get to death- The truth that your friends grasped! It began a year ago, the game, you must remember…” The voice starts fading again. What was she saying? The lies you told to get to death, the truth that your friends grasped, A game that began a year ago._

_“For the sake of this world’s future… as well as your own… please, please remember…” The blue butterfly stopped, the glowing dust around it spreading. Then it begins to shift, distort- It turns into a red butterfly, uncomfortably getting as big as my face, it flickers its wing, making Ouma’s breath hitch and though he would never say this out loud, it made him feel despair, and then-_

Ouma saw nothing. _No._

Darkness. _No!_

Pitch black. _Stop!_

Ouma jolted with a start, eyes going wide and purple pupils decreasing, his glasses jolting up in a cartoon fashion. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he was in an uncomfortable position to sleep in already. _Did I have a dream?_ He couldn’t remember, but that would be the only cause for his sudden outburst with fear. He decided to take in where he was while his heart decided to stop hyperventilating. 

A modern train, not the first one he’s ever seen one. It was stacked with all different types of Japanese people sitting and standing, some looking at him funny, highschoolers worried parents left a child on the train, and none bothered at all. The train was boring, the same safety, the same rubbery stick-up bench, and metal poles and brighter colors flooding through the large windows. 

His heart calmed down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for riding with us today. We will be arriving at Shibuya shortly,” A loudspeaker said in a generic, commercial voice, “This is the last stop for this line. Please transfer here for all subway lines.” _Huh_ , Ouma thought to himself, _I guess trains and subways are different._ He peeked up, trying my best not to sore his neck when he did. Boldly colored words with plain commercial backgrounds were splayed around.

“The doors on your left will proceed to open,” A loud, too loud honking noise made Ouma’s face sour up, wincing when he stretched. That loud sound… 

Ouma remembered now.

“Please help!” His mother, the same purple eyes and hair and fakeness that was meant to betray. A man stumbling back when Ouma stole that man’s wallet and phone after making sure to hit their head really hard with the bat Ouma held in his hand that time, not new but not too old. It had a nice feel to it, light but heavy enough to scare people.

It was just the usual steal and give ordeal. His mother would pretend to be something she was once, and Ouma would steal the jewelry and wallets. It was always that way after his neighbors left. They were good neighbors. A bit too good, he would tell her. Maybe they were the ones that ratted him out, or maybe it was that bald man he stole the wallet from. He probably has a tracker on his phone, but that wouldn’t explain why he still had it or why he wasn’t going to juvie. 

_A wallet. A phone. An injured skull. A car, flashing red and blue. A loud honking sound._

Ouma stared at his hand, devoid of any familiar bat. His mother probably sent it over. She would do that to help him protect himself. Though the school this time probably wouldn’t allow it. Ouma wondered if they would if he acted like a delinquent. They probably wouldn’t, according to his far from perfect record. _What if I aced A+ on every single test I did and answered all questions without fail? Well, experiments are there for a reason!_

“What? Are you for real- Omg, I think I just used Ryuji’s favorite line unconsciously!” A girl asked another high schooler, sitting next to him. _Gawd, generic teenagers! Disgusting_ , “Anyway, mental shutdown?” They shuffled, giving Ouma a chance to look at their phone.

A bloodbath is the correct word to describe it. _I love those so much, I’d kill to be in one!_ That was a clear lie, but one could judge for themself.

“It’s true,” The other one eagerly smiled, ear to ear. Ouma knew how to do those as well, as well as make it look creepy, so he couldn’t understand why she looked so proud. She looked more foreign than the other one, and her hair was a white, long yellow jacket with her simple school uniform splattered with paint.

“To a person though? That’s gotta be a joke, Yonaga-san!” The other one says, “You really like your occult stuff.” The other one wasn’t smiling. In fact, it looked a bit like they were less than friends.

Ouma pushed his glasses up to that, his stare a bit too obvious. _That’s what you get for showing others how you truly are._

“Atua can plead that!” The foreign one, Yonaga seemed to be her name, argued. _What the fuck is an Atua_ , Ouma thought as he calmly gave out a yawn, _not like I care_. She gave out a small giggle, which sounded like, “Nyahaha!” Ouma wasn’t about to judge one though.

“This is why nobody’s friends with you-” Ouma stopped listening, stuffing those memories back out of his head.

When Ouma got off, he made his way out, phone out in hand and praying nobody would bump into him. Looking up, his glasses reflected grey metal buildings stacking higher than what he originally thought, commercials sprinkled on the walls, huge crowded streets, people walking through minding their own business. It was Ouma’s first time seeing stuff as large as that, which shocked him.

A notification sound rings in his ear through the loud crowd. On his maps appeared an app, a blood red eye, a star stuck in the middle. Black paint was splashed- Or appeared to be- in the background, no dimension. It widened on his screen suddenly.

Now, it reminded the confused Ouma more of a city instead of paint, and the background looked more distorted. Ouma tried pulling it off the screen so he could read the directions, deciding his crew, DICE decided to break into his phone and screw with it. It wouldn’t be the first time either. But it just wouldn’t come off, no matter how much the purple-headed boy pressed. 

Then the star decreased.

It was as if time stopped, nobody was moving, nobody was talking, it was like they were all dead, wide eyes, walking, no sound or anything. A curse of Medusa, long and slowly crumbling apart, was something it reminded Ouma of. Ouma looked around, trying to find anything on what was happening, and then he saw it.

“Woah...” Ouma said, shocked. A fire growing on the opposite side of the street. It was a burning red and large and Ouma worried for a second for the others close to the fire. But then again, he didn’t care about them. The red fire burned into a shape, a weird type of person’s shape, black forms blooming through like eyes. It was engulfing the people it was on, and it looked human-like but not quite that, as well as an eerie smile- 

_Upupupupupup! Cuz’ I’m a bear!_

Ouma can swear he grows a headache at god’s speed and disappears just as quickly without notice.

Everything shifts back, moving, somebody doesn’t notice Ouma and pushes him a little. The flame went as fast as it came. Ouma sighed, dragging that strange red-eye app out of the trash, where he wished to never see it again. Ouma didn’t want to see him, the leader, being replaced. He didn’t want to see anything on it.

“Ugh…” He groans, wishing that Gokuhara was here with him. Gokuhara would never replace him. Gokuhara… He should text him before Ouma goes to sleep. If Gokuhara could work the phone Ouma’s mother gave him.

The subway station made something in Ouma shiver, _almost shiver, to be accurate_. Dark, crowded, and it had that weird smell Ouma couldn’t quite figure out.

Ouma rushes up the escalator like a kid, happy to get out of that dark, tight space, walking to the backstreets. It was darker than usual, the day being another cloudy Saturday. To be exact, it was April the 9th, afternoon according to the sun from high above. 

The backstreets were somewhat clustered with shops that seemed useful, ranging from Grocery stores to Baseball places, to laundry places, saunas, and recycling places, to even more. _Maybe I’ll visit them, maybe I won’t_. Ouma will be staying here for one year after all.

 _Starting today, Nagito… Komaeda, Komaeda? Is that how I pronounced it? Will be taking care of- Wait is there a Panta in the grocery store!?_ After buying that familiar drink from the unfamiliar grocery store, he continued his way. The sugary grape drink tastes awful on his taste buds, and it froze his pale hands. _Now, to find his house. It should be somewhere around here! Time to go on an adventure and probably get lost and maybe get kidnapped._

A policeman eyed him every now and then, a worried look on his face as if Ouma was a child. Ouma approached him, looking him straight in the eye. “Yes? What do you want?” The policeman asked.

“Hey, do I know you? I feel like I know you.” Ouma said, nodding to himself.

“What?” The police officer asked, “No, I don’t remember ever meeting you. Why?”

“Alright, good! Because I’m the Ultimate Supreme leader of-” Ouma decided not to say that. “I’m lost.”

The police officer stared at Ouma as if evaluating him, “I have the address here,” Ouma added, “Please don’t arrest me, I just wanna find the place- But that’s a lie! My actual thing is to break from the window for free coffee and then go worship Lovecraft, obviously.” Ouma scoffed.

“Oh? You must be the kid… Ouma-kun. Nagito-chan actually wants you to go to his shop.” The police officer said, “Do you want me to take you there? my shifts almost over and I’ll be going there in a few minutes anyway.” _Nagito-chan?_ He didn’t seem fazed by any of Ouma, or the fact he looked like a kid, or that his arm had a wound- It actually has been there for a while, and the police officer just didn’t seem to notice it. It seemed he got it when he went to sleep on the train, but Ouma wasn’t going to argue if he was marked by the Yakuza- He could ask them if he could borrow money.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Ouma listlessly nods, “How do you know Komaeda-san?” The police officer, Ouma noted, had spiky brown hair, a sharp one longer than the others jutting out on the top of his head, thin eyebrows and red eyes. He looked thin for a police officer, but Ouma wasn’t about to ask the man to undress so he could see his muscles.

“Well, my name is Hajime Hinata, and I’ve known that man since high school. Nagito-chan’s a rather special case with the police, pretty well-known in this area actually.”

“So he does drugs?” Ouma asked.

“Wait- No! And don’t ask a police officer that. Nagito-chan… just did some bizarre things and went undercover somewhere in a case, and he often visits the police to ask if he can have a gun. Or a knife. Or anything that can kill him.” Hinata said casually, “Or anything he could use to get him in prison. He’s a bit of a hero around here if you didn’t get that- Oh Sorry, you must not be used to hearing that." Ouma didn't reply to that.

“By the way, prepare to see the worst when you enter, okay?” Hinata gave Ouma a warm smile before checking his phone, red eyes dilating. “Haha… Guess he’s wondering where I am. He wanted me to meet you, funnily enough.”

Ouma silently watched as the man’s face stretched into a smile. He wondered why he looked so happy, he’s seen people look that happy before, but never felt it. It made an empty feeling grow in his heart as he told lie after lie on their way there. Ouma wished he had a bat so he could swing it at something.

The place, Komaeda’s shop, was a small brick shop on the side, neatly hidden. Leaves blown into the cafe, a gentle breeze surrounding us. Plants were stacked outside, all growing lively, a curtain thing Ouma never bothered to remember what was read **Coffee+Curry** , **LaChance**. It looked… How would you describe it? Like a home with no place to go, lost forever but always giving warmth. It reminded Ouma to pray that his mom had enough money to keep affording the house. 

_Coffee and curry._

“A public transit bus was driven down as opposing lane with its customers still in it!” Flashed a Tabloid Show Host, though he hid it well, Ouma saw through his disguise, looking desperate for information. Ouma wasn’t about to judge him though, after all, he didn’t know his situation. “The citizens can’t live in peace if this keeps up.”

This place was definitely an aesthetic. 

The lights were slightly dimmed, the light of the TV in the corner being brighter than needed to be. Three booths with beige cushions, white, crystal clean tables, few people peacefully talking. Some looked at the two coming in, some didn’t. Hints of blue and green showed through on boards and signs and fridges in the back. Coffee beans stacked and stacked behind the bar table. A yellow old phone rested in a corner.

The cafe- if this was a cafe, had fewer people than Ouma thought. _Five_ , he counted. To old people, presumably a couple, peacefully drinking their coffee. Two teenagers, one dressed in a buttoned-up shirt, a black cap on his head, and the other wearing full red clothes and black shorts whispering to each other. The last one had white hair, quite handsome, and seemed like he was working here. He didn’t seem like he noticed the two come in.

 _Where’s Komaeda-san?_ Ouma wondered, looking for an old man.

The elderly man in the booth spoke up, “How frightening.”

“What could be going on? Didn’t something like this occur the other day?" Asked the other.

“I swear, Momota-kun is driving me insane!” Whispered the twin-tailed, red-eye girl in the other booth, “He’s been out of school for an entire week.”

“Maybe his leg is in pain again?” The navy head boy across from her whispered back, pulling his hat down so Ouma couldn't see his face.

“Dangan is… the word, “bullet“ in Japanese…” Muttered the guy near the counter. He looked up and gave a pleasing smile, his wavy hair moving as he put the newspaper he was reading away. His skin was pale, sickly as if starved from the sun lighting away outside, unusual white hair with red marks on the edge, jutting out in a curly mess in a short ponytail. He was one inch taller than Hinata, wearing a green apron and white shirt. He was skinny, almost too skinny for his height with eyes that Ouma couldn’t clarify as a pale green or ghostly blue, red marks at the end. The man had something about him, the aura, that made Ouma shiver. He reminded Ouma of somebody Ouma couldn't quite place his finger on. 

His voice was wispy and reminding him of a quiet whisper, a bright strong breath. 

“Ah! Hello, Hinata-kun! You came with somebody this time I see,” The zombie said, grinning, he turned his attention to Ouma, giving him an icy stare, a smile, and a mental note for Ouma to remind himself to stare this guy in the eye with a smile. Ouma smiled back, shutting his eyes and curling his mouth into a face that his team often said made him look, _“As creepy as fuck.”_ “Oh! I know that smile.”

“Ugh!” Hinata jumped back when his eyes came across Ouma’s face. “Don’t have a- a- I don’t even know what that smile was, god… I think I’m traumatized.” Ouma didn’t take Hinata to be this dramatic.

“Ah! Are you alright, Hinata-kun?” The wavy hair guy asked, taking a step forward but nothing else. “Do you need water, or me to grab a bucket. I can make you some-”

“No, I’m ok. It’s just… I’m not surprised you chose somebody that matches your personality so much with your luck.” Hinata awkwardly laughed off, glancing at Ouma’s face again. He seemed relieved that Ouma’s face was back to normal. _I don’t know how to react to that._

“Hm?” The white hair guy tilted his head, those empty eyes and a smile still on his face.

“Do you want to introduce yourself, Ouma-kun?” Hinata asked, trying to get out the way. He seemed a little uncomfortable now, causing that racket. Ouma felt a little less obliged to introduce himself after somebody screamed about his face.

“No!” Ouma shouted, “If I say my name, the Future Foundation will come and hunt me down! I must hide, so I don’t die.” He dramatically fell to the floor, “Oh, woe is me!”

“Pardon?” Asked the white-haired guy.

“Uh- He’s the Ouma kid.” Hinata betrayed him. The teenagers in the booth seemed a bit bothered by Ouma. Not like he could care, he would never meet them again. Unless they were regulars.

“How dare you, Hinata-kun! I thought you were my partner in crime!” Ouma whined, immediately sitting up, “Well, it can’t be helped that you want to betray me. After all, I killed your wife and stole your son’s heart!” The navy blue hair teenager in the booth stared at me.

Hinata stared at Ouma. “Ah, that lie is a bit touchy, don’t you think?” said the white-haired guy.

Ouma put on a carefree smile and a shrug. “Doooon’t worry, my dad joked a lot about killing me in his earlier years- Until he actually tried. So I’m most definitely lying about everything I say. I don’t even think you have a wife anymore!”

“Ah-”

“Anyway, I’m bored. The name’s Kokichi Ouma, a brother, a father, a lover, a killer, and a supreme leader of an evil secret organization with over 10,000 people.” Ouma said boredly, staring at his nails. His nails were a bit chipped, and his hand was covered in a bit of blood. His hand was pale and small, and also excessively dirty. _I should wash my hands after I’m done pissing people off._

“Ah? Excuse me,” Said the navy head, “But I’ve never heard of such an organization.”

“Because it’s a secret organization!” Ouma explained, eyes wide and feeling inclined to stop. He was tired from the events today, the goodbyes, the new people, and the feelings that something was going on around him. Ouma sipped the Panta he almost forgot was in his other hand.

“Oh, Saihara-kun,” Waved Hinata, “Didn’t see you.” The guy in the booth- Saihara nods, fidgeting with the cap on his head, deciding he didn’t want to bother with talking anymore.

_Why does everyone know each other? I thought this was a big city._

“Well, I’m Nagito Komaeda.” Said the white-haired guy, smile pasted on his features. “The owner of this shop and your future guardian this year.” Komaeda’s younger than Ouma thought he would be and Ouma started to ignore the strange aura around him. He holds out his hand for a handshake.

“I think our first meeting went well, don’t you think so, guardian?” Ouma said, forcing a smile and spreading his fingers, “Scissors. I win.” _Hinata-kun seemed tired of me now_ , Ouma noted down, quickly putting his hand away and taking another sip of his drink.

“Pardon? Um- Anyways, Ouma-kun, I’ll make you some food, since you’re probably tired, and then I’ll get to show you around-”

“We’ll be leaving now since you young’ ems seem so busy.” The elderly couple said, “The payments on the table, and thanks for the coffee again, Nagito-chan.” _Nagito-chan._

“No problem, Unmei-sama!” Komaeda nods, bowing. “Sorry about the mess, I should be more organized, I know I’m bad-”

“Don’t worry. I don’t even see a mess, Nagito-chan.” Says the elderly lady. They leave and Ouma doesn’t know what to expect when Komaeda looks like he doesn’t know what to do. The door rings, a soft jingle, shutting loudly. Ouma heard them talking about a subway incident as they did.

 _Oh_ , Ouma breathes when Komaeda goes to go grab a sharp kitchen knife in the back and goes to-

“Don’t even think about it, Nagito-chan. You need to make food for Ouma-kun and then show him the gist and rules- Unless you want me too, but you can’t stab yourself.” _Am I hearing this correctly?_ The teenagers looked less than bothered by that fact and Ouma watches as Hinata steals the knife away.

“Aww, but I need it to cook, I wasn’t doing anything with it,” Komaeda explains himself. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“One could argue so.” Grunted Hinata as he sat down. Ouma didn’t bother to speak up as he sat down on the stool next to Hinata. “I guess I’ll be explaining the rules to not waste time.” Ouma glances at the teenagers in the booth, deciding he doesn’t want to think about why that one’s works in the police station or how they seem so casual about the owner lining the knife up with his skin.

“Don’t worry. That stuff about suicide happens in Inaba as well.”

“Really?”

“No. That’s a lie! I thought you would be able to tell by now.”

“Why are there so many things going on around me,” Sighed Hinata,”Oh right. Nagito-chan’s here.” _Huh?_

“You’re oddly silent now,” Observed the spiky head cop, trying to pull out that one piece of hair out his face, “Anyway, there are some rules about this place, since you’re on prohibition for your case. And then I’ll be explaining the rules for this place. And then Nagito-chan will show you upstairs after you ask any questions.”

When Ouma doesn’t respond, finishing his drink, Hinata continues. “There aren’t really a lot of rules, but I’ll be going over a few. One is that Nagito-chan will be keeping watch over you, as well as having you write in a diary to have you write what you did that day. You aren’t allowed to stay out after midnight. This rule was made by your school, that you have fewer tries to come late and must get grades above B’s, which will be easy for you considering your grade.”

“Why do you know my grade?”

“Because Nagito-chan let me look at your papers.” Ouma didn’t enjoy hearing that a stranger knew about his grades. “Good job on them, I’m surprised you got-”

“What are you feeding us today, Komaeda-chan?”

“I think…” Komaeda thought out loud, “I don’t think I’m worthy to decide, what do you want, Hinata-kun?”

“The usual. Extra chili on the curry and milk with the coffee.” Hinata said, scratching the back of his neck. Ouma turned side to side with his purple eyes flickering for any sort of board or thing that read what he could get.

“I’ll have chocolate stuffed pancakes, extra whip cream, chocolate sauce drizzled on the side, grapes spread on top, and a few marshmallows on it as well. And black coffee as dark as my soul!” Ouma told Komaeda, knowing well that pancakes weren't on the menu.

“We don’t serve pancakes, unfortunately, though I can make it for you if you want, and I’m not exactly what the color of your soul is,” Komaeda explained with a calm smile while he cut up apples for some reason. _I’m pretty sure nobody asked for apples_.

“Just get me… curry and coffee.”

“Pardon? Can you be more specific?”

Ouma glanced at the menu again, with no change in expression. Hinata seemed to be noting him down, and he felt like confusing him. Because he seemed like a regular at this store, he was bound to see Ouma a lot. And become more curious about him.

Everyone was like that way back in Inaba too. They were all trying to figure him out, why he seemed so obsessed with lying, why he carried around a bat but never used it, why he was so annoying, why he had no friends but had the entire town under his control. They all wanted to get rid of him, to become who he was, to _replace_ him. After all, many people wanted to know him, they all wanted to figure out the mystery boy, why the father was there, but they acted like they didn’t know each other, why the mother of the family always grinned ear to ear. They all wanted to solve a puzzle that was a human. 

But that was a lie.

“Are you even listening? Ouma-kun?” A hand, a tan hand moving like a swing, swing up and down, up and down, up and down… Ouma wondered if he was already being forgotten, just like those strange mysteries that started a few years ago and ended weirdly. His neighbor, one of the people in it, told him about wild and Wonderland-like adventures through the TV dimension, flying breezily around and being able to run without a care in the world.

Ouma pulled out his phone and stared at the missed calls, notifications, texts he’s gotten. It was a whopping amount of one. It was from his mom. His mom. She must be lonely right now.

 **I bet you have a can of Panta in your hand rn** _._

_1:05 pm_

She was right.

Ouma wishes she stays safe in his head. He’ll make sure to get a lot of jobs here and send her money. He’ll make sure his father, who he rarely mentions in his thoughts, is happy. Ouma hopes DICE is laughing right now, being as wild as bizarre, planning their next prank on the world. He hopes his little brother is well. He wishes Gokuhara doesn’t force himself to be a gentleman because of his stupid family and does what he wants. He hopes that the next time they meet…

It will never be. Because he’s planning on going on a long trip after this. That’ll be fun, and then maybe he’ll stay in a house where he gets mugged easily so he can capture them and make them give their money to charity…

  
  
  


But that’s a lie! He plans on dying soon, not living, after all. Gosh, which idiot would believe his lie? He never cared about anybody, and that was the full truth. He swears on his fate, his broken, swept-up fate! But then again, it could be neither. He’s a liar after all. He could just be a whole big lie himself.

Then he remembers. A small flashback, leaving no room for him to hear anything, feel anything other than despair.

_“You are being held captive.”_

_A butterfly._ A bear?

_A fate._ A game?

A killing game?- _A persona._

_Kokichi Ouma, Ultimate Supreme Leader-_ Ouma stops breathing, glasses falling off.

__________________________________________________________

Hinata said Ouma had some sort of hyperventilation, some sort of panic after not noticing them for a few minutes. Like a nightmare in the day, surrounded by people but never being able to escape a cage he trapped himself in. It was like a whispery shadow, lurking in the dark, but always being the dark, always there but never realized, staring him down like watchful eyes in the murky waters ready to pounce. 

Ouma doesn’t respond to Hinata when he goes to a small bathroom in the cafe, deciding to finally wash his hands and maybe look at the person staring back at him in the mirror. _It isn’t me_ , Ouma tells himself, _That’s such a bad lie, Ouma._

His face can barely reach the mirror, and he can only see the face of a liar.

Purple lengthy hair curled in an exaggerated way, curling up from countless years of man-handling his hair and the lack of thereof for his case, brushing against his nose as he pushed it out. Awfully pale skin, almost a clean slate white, and less than an ideal child’s build from having not eaten enough, is what some say. _But then I would be skinny too, but I’m at least slightly less than average in that account._ There were neat purple marks coating around his eyes that weren’t even there with his black glasses, fake of course.

Ouma forced a smile on his face, fake of course.

He checks his phone. No new messages. That was fine because it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to send any. He shoved his phone into his pocket and went out.

When he comes back, he eats his food and notices his empty Pants bottle is gone. 

Hinata went over the rules again, in a very tired, antsy voice. Ouma apologized after, though Hinata said it didn’t sound very sincere and started to go home straight after that. _“I’ll come back tomorrow in the morning, Nagito-chan and Ouma-kun.”_ He said, _“It’s my break tomorrow.”_

Seemingly, Ouma’s room was an attic. An attic with the same atmosphere from downstairs, off-white walls with wood beams. It wasn’t necessarily dirty or crowded, but it still needed to be cleaned. Stacks of what smelled like coffee beans on a large wooden bookshelves, another one with actual books, an old coffee maker on top. A small plant growing sufficiently. Wide windows, a small twin bed with familiar pillows and blankets. Boxes were organized in the corner, a table with a journal. More boxes in the middle, looking like Ouma’s. An antique sofa. Chairs and tables. A desk.

Komaeda apologized for some mess only he could see and explained the rules of his place again to him, in case Ouma forgot Hinata’s explanation. He went up and left, leaving him to search the quiet, unfamiliar place more. They didn’t seem to acknowledge Ouma’s lies a lot unless he hit certain points- And Ouma got all he needed.

Slowly, very slowly, he opened all four of his boxes, filled with missing treasures and memories he wanted to burn and burn himself in. It sent a pleasant smell through the room, and over sugary one with coconut shampoo, somehow blending with the strong smell of overbearing coffee beans.

_Memories, ah memories. Time to reminisce about the past and procrastinate._

Boxes unraveled to reveal unique things he's kept over the years. 

A bat that he often used, photographs of people wearing clown masks and checkered scarves, smiling like they were enjoying life. A group picture without Ouma, because he was sick that day. But that was a lie, he just wanted to leave everything, to go to that secret place in the woods only he and Gokuhara knew of. A horse mask he bought to hide his face or to do pranks. _Whichever one fits your perspective of me more_ , he thought in a bittersweet way. Toiletry like his toothbrush and toothpaste and lotion is stuffed inside as well, laying there with a red comb Ouma never remembers using. Ever.

Ouma pushes up his glasses.

Purple and white and black clothes filling up two boxes, extra checkered bandanas, and drawing utensils stacked up with notebooks and notebooks he used. It felt a bit like his mom was trying to get rid of everything he owns, but he discarded that strange feeling and filled it with curiosity of what could be in the next box. 

The last box held gifts. Gifts for a departure. More gifts than Ouma thought he would get. It seemed to be a gift from all the people that considered his friend, their leader, that questionable little teenager that lied and lied and whined until he got what he wanted and couldn’t be a leader, a friend, a good, quiet student like all the other nerds even if he tried for a lifetime. Nine. There were nine gifts that he could recognize instantly. Nine with the same pattern, from the same people. From DICE. Ouma stared at the gifts. Three small little sewn dolls of familiar little girls from different ages. Clown masks and dark capes and hats and recognizable cross-stitched patterns. There were also other gifts he didn’t find as recognizable. Small pens and keychains you can get from knick-knack stores and a book 800 pages long telling Ouma how to commit a crime with a “K”. There was even a hand-drawn poster with DICE’s. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. After going deep into his box, he found something. Something from the tenth person DICE, and it was a fucking bikini. That brother of his is in the hospital and he got Ouma a fucking bikini. _This isn’t even… I give up on him._

Envelopes topped all of them. 15 envelopes. More than he expected for a one-year departure. He shifted through all the notes: Love letters of girls he once tried to convince into his- the group DICE, two letters from his parents, letters from DICE. He stuffed all of them into the bottom of his gift box.

He sorted and lazily organized all his items out of the boxes, then putting the boxes aside. Ouma felt a bit weird as he hung the poster, organized the books on the shelves, sorted the boxes by the side. It was an attic, but a very clean attic, Ouma noticed. Komaeda must’ve cleared it before he came. 

When he was done with clearing and cleaning and taking items from items into different places, he finally organized the attic enough. He was pretty proud, with the clear walls to the somewhat organized floor to the devoid boxes. It reminded him back to the rare times he would help the old people clean their houses because they would always give him a lot of money, unlike those teenagers who would stuff his locker with bread. To this day, he still doesn’t know why they would do that, with specifically bread. He was surprisingly good at cleaning, despite his childish looks and constant teasing. Surprisingly, his town was quite fond of him as well. Quite fond of his lies and stories and accusations.

The poster of DICE was hung up on top, the three handcrafted dolls resting on his windowsill, the horse mask taunting Ouma from the antique couch, His clothes piled up on one of the tables with the masks and capes. Books from genres to genres that were originally there were neatly stacked. The room was bigger than Ouma’s bedroom, and the gifts and his stuff he originally had barely filled it up.

Ouma stared at his hand as he rested on the- _his new_ bed with pale pink and white blankets and sheets. Did Komaeda like pink or did he have a daughter? He found small child pink dresses around and a doll bear Ouma put back into some boxes. Not like Ouma was going to stick his nose into it, he could care less about how he found those strange things around. That reminded Ouma of his little brother and what he gave him, _a fucking bikini…_ As sick as he was, that little brother of his was rather cocky. _The bikini even has my measurements, how’d he do that?_

“Oh, it’s late,” Ouma muttered, staring out the two windows, shining in dim lights and the feeling there could be a handprint of blood out there any second. “I must’ve been cleaning for a while.” It was late. Too late.

Ouma sighs, taking off his black glasses and stuffing them next to the dolls.

Ouma pulled out his phone. No notifications. He went to Gokuhara’s messages and began to type something. He paused a second, then quickly deleted the message and began working on a new one. Before that, something appears on his phone, popping up all of a sudden and Ouma swears if it’s-

It’s that eye app again, paint still splattered and the eye still staring back at him, almost like it’s expecting him to do something. _Didn’t I delete this earlier?_ Ouma tried to delete it again, dragging it back into the trash. _What’s up with it?_

Ouma goes back to working on his message.

**Gooooooonta, I think I broke my wrist on the bench.**

_6:32 pm_

He doubts Gokuhara would respond because he was probably busy. Maybe he forgot how Ouma’s mom kept telling him how to use it, or just couldn’t comprehend it. But to his surprise, it went read. It took Gokuhara five minutes and twenty-seven counting to type a sentence.

**Bench? Wrist? Okay?**

_6:38 pm_

Ouma seemed to realize Gokuahar was asking if his wrist was okay. And what bench he was talking about.

**I was lying.**

_6:38 pm_

Ouma quickly put his phone away, stretching as the bat next to his bed fell. He picked it up, feeling its grip and fondness. It was oddly heavier than most bats he’s carried before and was smaller. It had the initials, _K.O._ He originally found it in one of the presents DICE gave him as well as something that read “Motive Video”. Apparently, none of the DICE or his family or Gokuhara gave it to him and the motive video seemed to be a prank, as the video had nothing in it anyway, breaking right after he pulled it out of the TV. Nevertheless, the present was very nice. 

“Whoa,” Ouma glanced over at the non-existent door swing open, revealing Komaeda, that eerie smile, and his hands on his hips. “I thought I heard some noise but I didn’t think you were cleaning all this time. Sorry for not coming up to try and help you.” Ouma silently nodded, watching his expression change slightly. A glance, stiffening, and a look at his hands. Komaeda seemed pretty weird, Ouma finally noted down. _Like he’s… Not sure how to put it, even if he seems pretty nice, I can’t- I won’t trust him._

“It may seem wrong of me not to have you in my actual house, but that’s because something weird goes on in there, and it would be better if you weren’t involved.” He said, noticing Ouma’s empty glare.

Ouma doesn’t respond.

“Well, why don’t you go to bed now? There’s nothing better to do, right?” Komaeda said, looking around the place. “I think I’ll close up shop and leave myself. Try not to get sick if you stay up too late because unfortunately, I have a case of being known for bad luck.” Komaeda tells Ouma, smiling even wider.

Ouma simply nods as the man turns his back, heading back.

He hears the door ring, closing it behind him. _That’s… weird._ Ouma doesn’t remember hearing that door ring earlier. He doesn’t remember hearing those teenagers leave. Ouma peeks his head downstairs, purple hair popping out before him.

 _Ah._ Ouma thought calmly, _They’re still here._

Mutters, echoing a bit. Their voices were peaceful. And so very quiet as well. They didn’t seem to realize Ouma was down, creeping into their conversation. He used to do this to his parents when his father was still in the same house.

“Why do you like this cafe so much, Saihara-kun,” The girl, with red eyes and brown ponytails said, “Sure, it has an aesthetic and nobody seems to care about you here, but the owner… He has that creepy mystery to him and you’ve heard of the stuff he’s done. He’s killed before, and with that smile on as well! We’ve both seen it. The guy’s son rigged the shop and that new kid Nagito told you about is so… He knows something.” _Do I really?_

“I-I like the food, though.” Weakly argued the navy head. Ouma couldn’t remember if he ate the food.

“That isn’t solid enough. I know you feel guilty about Nanami-san, but that doesn’t mean you should daily visit this cafe.” Daily? Ouma noted down that he would regularly see the teenager and walked up to them, casually sitting down next to him.

“It isn’t very healthy to have coffee every day, you know.” Ouma agreed, “It makes you go whack in the head!” The navy head flinches, and red eyes glower at him. Ouma doesn’t mind though.

“A-ah… Hello there.” Replies the guy, covering his face with a flimsy-looking cap, speaking louder. Ouma didn’t say anything more than that. Neither did the others. Ouma sighed as he rested his face on the white table. It was almost too white, like somebody was replacing it every day. There was nothing in their mugs and the way they were reminded Ouma of dolls. Still dolls, not quite, but still… The haunting night sky behind them was quite a sight.

_I’m bored._

“Aren’t you going to leave, kid?” Asked the girl, impatiently breaking her doll-like self and clicking her fingers on the pristine white table. The boy moved, looking out the window. The girl glared at Ouma like he was invading her privacy. _She thinks I’m a kid._

Ouma didn’t reply. He stared into his hand instead, hiding it underneath the table. He tightly shut his eyes and remembered something. He worries about his glasses for a second and remembers that he left them on the windowsill. _This… That girl reminds me of something. She reminds me of..._

“...Are you okay?” The boy asked.

Ouma didn’t reply. 

_She reminds me of…_

“I-Is he… asleep?”

“His eyes are shut, but he just shut them.”

_..._

“I- He had s-something like this earlier today, right?”

“Yeah, but it looks more like he’s fading this time.”

_Of..._

“...”

_Voices fading. Voices are fading in Ouma’s head as distant splashes come into his mine, dripping in as Ouma hesitates to reach out his hand. Something red._ Something pink.

 _Blood._ Pink blood.

 _A hanger. Poison._ Strike-9 poison. An arrow.

Something pushing down on him against his will. It’s cold and solid and then everything turns pitch black. It feels like… Chains?

Chains shackled, making the slightest of sounds, like the drop of water he could hear in the background. The air smells weird and reminds Ouma of something unsettling. There was something… weird going on.

_Wasn’t I just in LeChance, that cafe?_

The air was dark, a bit too dark. Ouma turned around, trying to get a view on what was going on. Then he saw something he felt like he shouldn’t have seen. His head feels like it’s tearing apart into smaller pieces.

It looked like a cave. A cove, but not exactly. Like a secret hideout. Like a villain’s secret hideout. A dark throne, stacked onto stairs. Wigs and guns and masks were set aside with weapons Ouma wouldn’t ever use. A car, a car as a bedroom. Masks set aside with boxes. A sign of DICE. Ouma wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it looked… It all looked familiar. Too, too familiar.

_Huh._

He was chained. Chained to the dark throne stacked upon stairs. Chained in this disturbing room that’s almost too familiar, like a _dog_ . A straight jacket, _this straight jacket again?_ He remembers this, from his other dream. From… that red butterfly.

Child buttons, ripped at the hem and neck, white cloth wrapping tightly around his arms and legs. The straight jacket wasn’t even being used, and a random checkered scarf stuck to his neck as he swung around, trying to escape the throne.

Then Ouma shut his eyes, calming down. His head was only getting worse and worse, the pain becoming the only feeling in his head as he wrapped his arms around it. His glasses. His glasses weren’t here either.

A giggle, and then a laugh. Louder… Ouma opened his eyes, glancing down.

Somebody was there, staring at him with sharp yellow eyes, like a predator for prey. A small girl, standing in front of the throne as if she was the one looking down on me. She looked like… a doll. Everything seems so cold, so still. Everything hurt his head, and everybody was like dolls. Calm dolls programmed to do something… _My head hurts._

The doll was dressed up like a police officer… kinda, at least. Blue shirt and black shorts, an eyepatch on her eye with a distinct V. Pale hair tied up in two buns, a blue cap on her head. Glowing yellow, her one eye shone like a wolf.

Suffocating silence followed that. And then there were two. Two eye patches, a V and a 3. One with braids and the other with two firm buns. Ouma noticed the desk in the center of the room and the velvet coating his throne.

When Ouma tried to stand up, he couldn’t. The chains didn’t allow him. He just had to say neatly onto the throne with chains wrapped around him, dangling his arms around.

Then he noticed the quiet old man sitting neatly on the chair. A lamp, a feather, and a stack of papers. The man was quite old, resembling a man older than Ouma’s grandfather. Ancient is the peculiar word thrown in Ouma’s head. He reminded Ouma of somebody- _something_ ancient. The man sat symmetric with his long nose, wide eyes, long eyebrows uncombed and a creepy smile plastered on its face. Pointy ears, Ouma noted, the man looked as if he wasn’t human. A plastic little bear sat next to the man, and Ouma’s head shook with frustration. The bear was quiet, but there was a presence. Half white and half black, a red wing-like eye. A smile, creepier than anything Ouma can remember.

It all felt… so familiar.

The man moved, holding out his hand. Ouma couldn't take the hand. The bear, much to Ouma’s surprise, didn’t. _That’s… why do I keep thinking that the bear will move?_

“ **Welcome, trickster.** ” The man’s smile didn’t shift, and those wide eyes stared unblinking. “ **Welcome to your velvet room.** ”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_That dark voice wasn't familiar._


	2. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome, trickster.” The man’s smile didn’t shift, and those wide eyes stared unblinking. “Welcome to your velvet room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will link all the references, plans, and additional situation planning in the endnotes. So if you want to, you can read those and clarify any information you think I missed, should add, or anything like that.

The first sentence started, but Ouma couldn’t remember if the sentence ever ended. “So you’ve come to, inmate.” The porcelain doll started, voice polished and hard. She glared up at Ouma, her single eye glowing a bright yellow in the organic darkness. The other one began to open its mouth, but her voice faded in with the slow breaths Ouma started to give. Her voice was more peaceful, like a soft flower. If she was a flower, the twin beside her was like a sharp fern.

“The you in reality is currently fast asleep. This is but a dream.” The voice said calmly.  _ A dream?  _ Calm. So very calm… Ouma shut his eyes but jolted them open from a yell.

“You’re in the presence of our master, so open your eyes!” The girl in buns’s voice was painful to his ears. Ouma widened his purple eyes, staring at them with mixed, unsure emotions.

Then the old man spoke. More words spilling out.

“Welcome,” The voice wasn’t soothing, or loud. It was like a whisper in the air, like a rundown city falling apart, the sign of life already gone. He didn’t sound alive, but he didn’t sound dead. He sounded like somebody that wasn’t on this planet. That wasn’t normal. “I am delighted to meet your acquaintance.”  _ I haven’t met this person before, or these girls, or have ever seen such a hideout… But it has the DICE symbol above it. _

The old man’s never blinking eye twitched. “This place exists between dreams and reality, mind and matter. It is a room that only those bound by a “contract” may enter.” Ouma tore his eyes away from the weird sight and looked around. Nobody else was there, and his chains went high up into the sky of the cave, only making him more aware of the shackles he couldn’t move away from, chaining him to the cognitive throne, unwanted. 

“I am Igor, the master of this place.” Continued the old man, who was now classified as Igor.  _ But aren’t I the one on the throne?  _ “Remember it well.” Tapping fingers against the wooden desk, smiling stiffly, those wide eyes unmoving. Horrifying, being chained up, feeling like Ouma was running out of breath as every second passed. “I summoned you here to speak of important matters. It involves your life as well.”

Being the only thing Ouma could do, he thought, his head of mixed thoughts and his heart of mixed emotions- even with the painful knife in his head, imaginary but so very hurtful.  _ Important matters and my life? Contract? And why am I here? Why does this old man- Igor say things like this? Am I really-  _ Dreaming. Ouma felt like he wasn’t dreaming. His body didn’t feel high on clouds, or flying across the subjects in his mind like a breeze. No Gokuhara, no mom, no prison, no Coffee shops, no secret meaning key words of red. Just him, this velvet chair, and this headache that was slowly killing him.

Ouma didn’t speak. He felt like something was lodged in his throat, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to cough it up.  _ If I speak, I feel like I might die. _

“Oh? One would think you would question this when we gave you a chance to reply. Maybe you know your place, inmate.” The calm doll said, holding out a wooden clipboard Ouma never noticed before, a pen in her left hand. It seemed as if it appeared out of thin air.

Ouma didn’t reply to the backlashing praise.

“Still, this is a surprise.” Igor smiled stiffly at him. “The state of this room reflects the state of your heart. To think it would appear as such, almost like a locked memory… You truly are a “Prisoner of Fate.” In the near future, there is no mistake that ruin awaits you.”  _ Ruin… My head feels like I’m dying.  _ Ouma held his head in an uncomfortable position, but still was not responding. The lodged feeling in his throat never leaving, but only fading. He was sure that if he spoke, it would arise like a rollercoaster and kill him.

“Worry not. There is a means to oppose such fate. You must be “Rehabilitated”. Rehabilitated towards freedom…

“That is your only means to avoid ruin… Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of 

“both 

“Worlds?”

Ouma’s vision faded in and out, but never to respond. The next words were fainter than a cold blow of wind in the middle of the night and would resolve Ouma’s fate for the rest of his life. And not a word leaving his lips. “Allow me… observe… path… rehabilitate...” Ouma looked down, his head down as if it were to split in two. The pain he felt was far worse, and he had to hold in a scream, a cry, and a curse.

He looked up again.

The pair of blonde, one-eyed dolls stepped closer to each other. Empty, yellow eyes that seemed to glow at Ouma.

“Ah, pardon me for not introducing the others. To your right, Coraline. To your left, Justine. They will serve as keepers here. Keepers as the owners of the keys to your chains, as well as the wardens to whoever enters and leaves this room.”

Coraline began to talk, a sudden lancer hoisted on her shoulder. “Hmph! You seem rather too quiet for an inmate, inmate!” Her eyes came to life, determined expressions coating her face and a sharp frown.

“The duty of wardens here is to protect the inmate. We are also your collaborators.” Justine spoke up, elegantly bowing and doll-like facade melting. Her face was peaceful but determined like she was trying to figure out something.  _ Protect me from what? And why keep me chained in a throne when I’m an inmate or something?  _ “That is… if you’re obedient.” They went back into dolls and turned to Igor.

“‘I’ll further the discussion of what they are here for another occasion. Now then, it seems like our time is waning... It is almost time. Take your time to slowly come to understand this Velvet room.”  _ Velvet room.  _ “We will surely meet again, eventually…” A snap of fingers and everything hurts. Hurts too much. Ouma shuts his eyes too tightly. A loud bell.

**_Ding_ **

**_Dong_ **

**_Bing_ **

**_Bong_ **

_ “Time’s up.” Caroline. “Now hurry up and go.”  _

_ Everything is washing away…. _

_ Why is it pitch black? _

_ Nothing…. _

Ouma opened his eyes, wide. His head hurt, and he couldn’t remember what he dreamt about. There were people. Two. Three? And a bear. A monochrome bear.

Something navy, a hat, and yellow, shiny eyes like people Ouma felt he just forgot… Red eyes, a mole underneath, long brown hair. His head sent a strong vibration as he remembered something.

_ “...Shumai and Makiroll?” _

He was shaking, and warmth from his left seemed to disappear. Yelling. More shaking. And a lot of pain inside and out. Ouma shut his eyes, grasping for any memories he couldn’t seem to remember. He wanted-  _ needed  _ them.

_ Food? _

He felt trust. Trust in the Shumai and fear for and of the Maikroll. He didn’t know why he was fearing Sushi and trusting dumplings, but it just felt right. So, so right…. The pain fell and sudden drowsiness arose as Ouma tilted his head, shutting his eyes tighter, and-

__________________________________________________________

Broad daylight, shining in through the wide windows to his right. Something soft, but not quite rested underneath him. An uncomfortable pillow, that was just slightly stuffy. It was his pillow, but the heavy blanket, laying cold on him wasn’t. It was colder than Ouma would like it, and everything seemed a bit too dizzy. His head felt empty, and he clouded with thoughts. That’s probably because he slept somewhere else than where he usually is.

He was in an attic.

_ What happened last night? _

The idea of a dream felt familiar, but fresh faces filled his mind and eerie chains crawled their way into Ouma’s main thoughts. 

Then he remembered.

Igor, those two one-eyed dolls, and that strange kid-like stuffed bear that Ouma could swear was speaking. That place where he was shackled to, and that velvet blue throne he couldn’t leave. Ouma shivered at the thought of that long nose, eye twitching old man watching him right now.

Something strange. Strange couldn’t even comprehend that dream, much less take a single bite out of it. There was something… weird going on. Ouma felt the need to reach out to Gokuhara about this, and force him to comfort Ouma. He decided not to in the end though.

_ I… Ah. _

“A-Are you finally awake?” A soft voice, stuttering. It reminded Ouma of Shumai- He wondered why he thought about dumplings again. 

Ouma just stared at the man in front of him, not turning away once, not speaking once. 

The… dumpling reminding guy was rather shy, in both his way of speaking and body language. He was looking down, his face blocked with the striped cap on his head. He wore rather bland clothes, a striped navy short-sleeved shirt, with light grey stripes, black pants, and pale skin. He reminded Ouma of an emo teenager, though Ouma felt the need to also note down that he looked like somebody Ouma knew-

_ Uh oh. _

The guy looked up, and dim yellow lights, grey even, shone in his eyes, navy hair. 

He made Ouma’s head hurt. It was very painful, and everything seemed like a dream. He felt drunk, like he just woke up from a hangover. Maybe if he stabbed himself right there and the would the pain finally end-

Ouma can swear that the guy is crying for a second, dying slowly from the inside and has an empty spot through where his heart should be, torn out and placed at Ouma’s bed. He’s pretty sure he’s going crazy because the next second, the guy’s eyes turn red and then everything disappears.

_ The pink blood. Why was it pink? _

“A-Ah!” Yelled the man, “A-Are you okay?!”

His soothing voice made Ouma’s head hurt, like it was splitting in two. The man seemed to approach Ouma and try to help him without touching him, though Ouma wasn’t sure how he was going to do that.

_ This headache is a lie! _

That was a lie. If all headaches were truths then all Ouma had to do was lie! Lie and lie and lie and lie until this stupid head gets it right- Ouma bit his tongue when he thought he felt a scream coming. The pain was just unbearable, but that was a lie. Everything was a lie. It was okay. It didn’t hurt at all.

A lie- “Nishishi! That was a lie!” Ouma grinned, lifting his heavy, agonizing head. “Did you actually believe me?” Ouma gasped as if he couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it himself. His eyes were wide, and his face was pale. Nobody would be able to see that with the color of his skin though.

“...” The guy stopped speaking, and Ouma decided that was for the best.

“Hey, hey. Why are you silent now? Cat got your tongue? That’s a full-blown lie, because I’m the one who snatched your tongue away!” Ouma said, trying to move away and grab the black glasses by the windowsill. “Why are you here? And who are you? I feeeeeel like those might be important questions, but I don’t wanna ask them. I’m too tongue-tied to even say a word!” 

_ Shumai.  _

It seemed he wanted to eat Chinese dumplings for some reason. The guy seemed honestly startled, and a bit surprised when Ouma asked- didn’t ask- for his name. “A-ah right, sorry… I’m Shuichi Saihara, a regular at LeChance. Don’t you remember last night..?”  _ Shuichi? Shuichi. Shuichi. I’ve heard that before. Shumai. _

Last night. 

Last night, he had a dream about Igor and twin dolls and secret hideouts and monochrome bear plushies, for hell does he know what that is supposed to symbolize. Before that… he came downstairs and fainted. He came downstairs to see if people were still there. And…  _ Shumai.  _ His head hurt. Everything hurt. No, that’s a lie.

_ Ah. _

Ouma felt like smashing his head into oblivion, the intoxicating pain with him along. Not only did he subconsciously start to sleep in one of the booths, but in a new place, next to two people he didn’t know. He felt like- Pain. He felt a lot of pain trickling into his head like a waterfall.

“I-I… should go now.” The Saihara guy said, looking around with worried eyes. “I-I- nevermind. I should go. Ugh… Bye.” Saihara said quickly, leaving before Ouma could call out to him. Not like he would.

Ouma’s eyes drifted again, and then slowly… He shut his eyes and…

_ Shumai.  _

He fell asleep. He fell asleep again, eyelids heavy and taking small breaths to try- and failing- to calm his head down. If somebody banged it with the bat at his side, then that would feel better than what he was feeling.

Then he was back.

Apparently, Ouma fainted from stress and tiredness, they assume. He fainted after going down to one of the booths that had Saihara and his friend in it. That was when he started his strange dream, and a head-splitting headache started. The teenagers brought him up and contacted Komaeda. When he came, Komaeda asked Saihara to watch over him for a bit. It was already late at night and it seemed Saihara stayed the whole time. His friend left though.

Ouma never fainted before today, so he had no idea it would be so...so smooth. His brother often fainted before, and it was always due to his disease, but it would always be less… smooth. Is that the correct word?  _ Does that even matter? _

It was 3:38 am when he first woke up. Then he went back to sleep.

It was now 7:43 am and Ouma’s body felt heavy, strangely heavy for him to have slept his usual sleep hours.  _ To have slept more than my usual sleep hours _ , corrected Ouma,  _ Feels like I’m gonna break in half any second now. _

“Ah, good morning, Ouma-kun!” Komaeda asked, walking straight in with a wide smile and that same mysterious, somewhat off-putting aura glowering around him like thorns on a rose. Same grin. Same face. Same voice. Same body. Different clothes that still matched that green and red color scheme he seemed to have a lot of. Same empty eyes. “How are you feeling?” Ouma smelled chocolate, as well as something spicy like curry. The smell of coffee filled up the rest. Ouma wondered how a man could smell so much like food.

“Worse than ever,” Ouma told Komaeda dryly, then adding, “But that’s a lie. I feel like I’m smoking coffee and high on curry. I’m even higher than high.”  _ Higher than tuberculosis.  _ Ouma pondered for a second if he forgot something important before that dream.

“Ah, really? I’m sorry I couldn’t be a good enough guardian even though I hoped to be. Do you need any pillows or blankets? How can I help?” Komaeda asked, thinking deeply. Ouma remembers yesterday how Hinata, that police officer immediately reacted to Komaeda holding a kitchen knife, and the response he got. 

Komaeda’s eyes remained empty.

“Nevermind- What did you say we were doing today? Something with the school?” Ouma asked. Though he wasn’t listening, being far into those thoughts of his, his head seemed to remember how Hinata or somebody mentioned going to the new school… Ouma's head hurt a lot, but it hurt more in his dream, so he could think more properly now. Komaeda seemed off on his own planet as well, though it was harder to tell.

_ I wonder what set it off? _

“We were going to go introduce ourselves to the staff of your new school about your sudden transfer. Sorry about that.” Komaeda explained, noticing the change of the conversation. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to wake you up since you seem- Ah, sorry about that. We might be a little late if we leave in an hour, so…”

Ouma’s eyes followed that small fly fizzling around in the slightly dusty room. “It would be nice if we went right now. ”Let’s go then.” Komaeda smiled.

“The school you’ll be attending is in the Aoyama district, so I might not always be able to drive you there since I need to start the shop early, unluckily, sorry about that. But- We should at least give you breakfast!” Ouma’s stomach gurgled a bit, and he felt just slightly happy he could eat breakfast, even if it was just a bar of chocolate or something small. It ended up being waffles. Waffles always reminded Ouma of Dadapon, in Xeno Chronicles 2.(Oh. Oh god. So this is like, a really small reference that’s not even a reference. But this is Joseph Anderson’s reference. He’s really serious on his videos but really meme in his streams. His chat is really meme I mean. He’s got funny reactions too. God, do I like his streams. Waffles Dadapon is his name for the protagonist. And he names the phantom thieves the ASS EATERS. His personality doesn’t sound fake or exaggerated, and he also did Danganronpa).

“To reiterate, just so we’re clear, you will immediately be expelled if you cause any problems.” The bald, round-headed principal clarified, slightly slouched back, without even a functional chin. Ouma remembers that Komaeda told him he caused a bit of problems when he was at this school, and the principal switched, so it might not be in their favor. Ouma didn't care about being in favor, he didn’t plan on being here forever after all.  _ I won’t cause them any trouble as long as they don’t cause me trouble.  _ His headache was still there, bat fading away in the background ever so slowly.

Ouma was a bit glad that Komaeda went to this school before him because he told Ouma in his old, slightly rusted car all about the secret spots and places that were usually left open to steal. One time, he even got all the drinks from the vending machine by tapping the broken button that was too jagged to work, but since he hit it with his nail, it worked.  _ Luck. He mentioned something about his luck. And so did Hinata-kun.  _ Komaeda’s nails were long when he was in high school apparently.

Ouma pushed his black glasses forward on reflex as Komaeda calmly signed the second batch papers. The first batch had an ink spill on them when Komaeda was writing with it.  _ Unluckily.  _ Unluckily. The principal’s head shined.

The principal’s office reminded Ouma of any average principal’s office, or at least the ones he has seen. There were more trophies though, and pictures of certain students were plastered on the wall like decorations on a Christmas tree. 

They all had signs of what they have done, and bad things written about them. A blonde chick with thick goggles on her head, reading  _ “Suspected of creating that weird lock where you have to shout something inappropriate to go to the teacher’s office. Cameras rigged, unseen footage.”  _ A grinning guy with a goatee, reading  _ “Suspected of breaking into the school system and stealing the student’s test scores.”  _ More people. There was only one that Ouma recognized though, one person that surprised Ouma. And… Ouma swore he looked the exact same.

Jutting white hair, a deathly empty stare, a fake smile that was somewhat reassuring, sickly pale skin as dead as a vampire. It was a younger version of Komaeda,  _ Komaeda 2.0 _ ? Multiple lists were piled underneath. 

_ “-Suspected of almost stabbing a student with a kitchen knife. Suspected of trying to jump off the roof. Suspected of starting a fire in Classroom 1-A. Suspected of writing the word ‘hope’ all over the desks in Classroom 2-D. Suspected of stealing all the drinks in the vending machine. Suspected of being arrested by the police during the 2nd year summer break, though they still have yet to confirm.-”  _ That continuous list went off the board the pictures were scattered on, right next to the trophy case.

Ouma fiddled a bit with the uncomfortable black jacket that was a bit too big.

There were noticeably more trophies about Volleyball and a golden flaked Kitana on the top, neatly on a pretty holder. Ouma would have to steal that at some point, if he ever got to the time of day to do it.

“And you- Komaeda-san-”

“Ah, it’s alright for you to call me Nagito-chan. Most people do for some reason.” Komaeda smiles at him, with the exact smile in the photo.  _ Did he time travel? _ “Sorry about interrupting you, I just wanted to clarify that.” Ouma could swear there was a gleam coming from the principal’s head.

“Oh. Nagito-chan then, I assume you’re better than you were from your school days.” The principal said, nodding to himself. He was publicly shaming Komaeda in front of Ouma as if to say something. 

“Am I? What did I do in high school?” He asked, his smile fading and being replaced with a curious face. Ouma remained silent, glancing around more. There was a dying plant in the corner of the room, and on one wall was a bad word, splashed around with terrible Kanji. “Oh… you mean when I was rather unfortunate and found my million dollars was stolen. Well, I am doing financially okay now, thank you for asking, sir!” He flashed the principal a smile.  _ I’m pretty sure that’s not what he meant… _

The principal took a second to reply, coughing one, two, three times before continuing to speak. It was three times too many when it was just about to begin school, and fall was starting. The principal continued to speak about something more related, staring at Ouma a bit like an insect. His face was in a scowl, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

_ Fucking bit-  _

“Honestly, I hesitated on accepting someone like  _ you _ , but there were some favors on our side… Your grades are particularly unusually high, and you participated in a rather long list of activities during your time at your old school.”  _ I did?  _ Ouma remembers a lot of the teachers and students asking for his help and having to do a lot of extra credit things for hopes of a scholarship.  _ Looks like that won’t happen anymore.  _ “So I hope you continue that attitude. You will behave yourself here at this school. If you are thrown out of our school, there will be no place for you to go. Keep that in mind the next time you plan on attempting murder on your own mother.”  _ Huh? _

Ah.  _ So that was the charge.  _ He remembered talking about it with his mother and trying to get her to send her only healthy boy away, but it seemed too much of a hazy dream. Everything felt a little too real for Ouma’s liking, but it felt so fake at the same time. It all felt like a lie...

Ouma nodded silently.

A sound, footsteps, and then there was someone. That person that went to retrieve the second papers, Ouma remembers, and it seemed like she was the principal’s assistant or a teacher.

A woman, around the same age as Komaeda and a stern frown settled deep into her face, a bit like a sinking spiderweb. Her grey-white hair was pulled to the back of her head and was in long braids, black ribbons symmetrical on both sides. Her eyes were a bright red, long eyelashes, contrasting the monochrome colors she wore. A small red ring on her left finger. She was a little intimidating, but seemed- 

“Ah! Pekoyama-san, I haven’t seen you in so long!” Komaeda grinned, his eyes looking slightly less empty. But what they were filled with,  _ who knows. It doesn’t look too good _ . Pekoyama seemed startled by the sudden attack, but quickly regained her composure. “I see you’ve become a teacher.”

“Ah, hello there Komaeda… with somebody, it seems...” Her voice obviously gave “Pekoyama-san, this is Kokichi Ouma, the student I promised would be taken into your classroom. Please introduce yourself professionally and remain calm.” Pekoyama, the assistant nodded. “Ouma-kun, this is the teacher in charge of your class.”  _ If they know each other… that complicates things for them. _

“I’m Peko Pekoyama. Here’s your student ID,” She said rather plainly and forcedly, pulling out a card and handing it to Ouma on the desk. Ouma slowly inspects it before grabbing it. Himself reflected in it, himself without glasses. A wide grin, wide eyes, and a wide deceptive personality to go with it. It had his ID, his name, his guardian’s name, class 2-D, and an emergency caller that Ouma wasn’t sure how it was. Hope’s Peak academy imprinted on the top, a red line in the middle. 

_ She has a strangely cute name.  _ Ouma would laugh at that if he were home. He just stared at her instead. If he laughed, he felt like he would start crying. And the fact a pounding headache slowly rising and falling like a big breath stuck in his head didn’t help too much. Maybe it helped him think less, go with the flow, make rash decisions.  _ Maybe. Not like I’d let a headache get to me. _

“Read the school rules. Any violations send you straight to the guidance office.” Pekoyama said in a tired voice, sighing. “And, if by any chance you cause any problem, I will give you no mercy and won’t be able to protect you at all.” She turns to the principal, no hesitation. No mercy. Not even a single word from Ouma as they began talking.

“That IS your promise, yes principal Kobayakawa?” Asked Pekoyama, crossing her arms. Her frown tightened when she glanced at Komaeda. Ouma wondered how he could put her hatred towards Komaeda to use for his favor.

The principal nodded, a small smile turning on his lips. “He is indeed responsible for all his actions, and...” He continued, but Ouma decided to stop listening. There was something about his voice that irked Ouma. 

Pekoyama silently nodded but Ouma could still see she was frustrated with the situation as they continued to talk about where he would be, or something like that. She seemed to notice him staring and he blankly stared at her as she frowned even more. 

“You look like you want to say something, Ouma-kun.” Komaeda noticed, a smile still plastered on with some hard liquid glue.

Ouma flashed him a grin, pushing in his glasses. “ It just looks like Ms. Peko Peko Peko wants me to give a proper introduction!” He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath.

“Ah?” Pekoyama said, startled, “No, I’m goo-”

“I am Kokichi Ouma, a murderer and a psychopath that totally wasn’t framed!” Ouma shouts, louder than Pekoyama. “That’s all.” He finishes in a quiet voice. Komaeda seemed a little shaken up by Ouma’s scream, and the staff seemed more than unsettled by it.

“That’s quite a strange intro, Ouma-kun- Oh! Sorry, but we have to leave right now, Hinata-kun’s probably waiting…” Ouma found it strange how Komaeda was so focused on Hinata, but he was a customer and a policeman after all.  _ But then again... _

Before they could respond, Komaeda pulled Ouma’s hand tightly and quickly walked out. Ouma’s arm was sore from the pulling at the end. “Ah, sorry! Your hand must hurt. I tend to think a bit too quickly at times and…”  _ Hand. Hand? I’m sure he means arm. _

“What’s wrong with you?” Ouma asked, rubbing his sore arm. A blank stare, and a calm level of breathing. Komaeda stopped to look at him in the middle of the hall. They were still in the new school, and Ouma found that somewhat reassuring. When Ouma looked at his hand, it was actually bleeding a bit. Ouma isn’t sure how that happened as he rubbed his small, pale onto his big blazer.

Komaeda’s face was smiling, though one couldn’t say that. It was a stiff look on Komaeda’s face, and his grey-blue eyes weren’t empty. They were filled with… Ouma thought about Hinata. He wondered why he did as he stopped rubbing his sore hand and sore arm. “Pardon?”

“I mean, why was there all those list things, about you trying to stab yourself and the hope and getting arrested. What’s up with that?” Ouma asked, fidgeting with his hair a bit and pushing his fake glasses up.

Komaeda laughed, a little too softly. “Turns out your past follows you wherever you go. If you ever get expelled, then you have nowhere to go… I synthesize with people like us, that’s why I took you in, but you’re leaving the second you get expelled.” His voice sounded a little like a giggle, sounding a little drunk. But it was still Komaeda’s voice. Still Komaeda.

Ouma decided not to talk anymore.

The ride back to LeChance was silent, only the sound of Ouma’s rapid breathing, the pounding sounds of headaches, and the beeping of the radio going on and off and on and off. The traffic wasn’t good, and cars were lined up like dominos on the streets. “-Again, a subway has derailed at Shibuya station, greatly affecting the timetable all across the-” The radio buzzed off, leaving Ouma pondering his small headache and thoughts far off into space.

The colorful lights and dense atmosphere of LeChance, a navy head and spiky brown hair through the window, and that large chessboard with moves scattered around. It was already dark, but they were here. They were still here.

“Hey, Nagito-chan.” Hinata waved quickly, not looking up once, eyes following the move Saihara made. Saihara’s friend wasn’t here. Komaeda smiled back at Hinata, though Ouma’s pretty sure Hinata doesn’t see it and sighs, moving the horse piece in an L move.  _ L. That’s a weird chess move. _

“Sorry Hinata-kun and Saihara-kun, Ouma-kun and I took a while. Met with Pekoyama-san.” Komaeda says, harshly shoving off his jacket and taking a lean in one of the high stools.

Hinata looks up, the hair on the top of his head jutting out. Ouma realized Saihara was winning, Ouma discreetly moved Hinata’s piece to a winning spot and sneaked upstairs, to the attic,  _ his  _ attic. The place where he would be living in the next year.

It was darker than yesterday, and Ouma’s phone felt heavy in the pocket of his too-big school blazer. He pulled up his sleeves and started to write in the journal Komaeda gave him yesterday. It may have been Spring but he sure as hell didn’t feel like it was.

He wrote the date and jotted down what he thought about Komaeda. He doesn’t know why he was writing this down, or why he planned on writing in it for the future.  _ Komaeda scares me _ . He decided to cross that out. 

Ouma fell into his new bed and had a feeling of drowsiness as he pulled out his phone and glanced at the notifications. Nothing. That was fine since he hasn’t read the envelopes either. 

He stuffed his phone away after dragging that strange red-eyed app to the trash again and started to change underneath the sheets.  _ Didn’t I get rid of it yesterday? I should reboot my phone just in case. _

Ouma shook his glasses off and placed them on the windowsill. He remembered the first time somebody told him he looked worse with glasses on. Less maniacally suspicious though. His brother liked to compliment him like that. His brother liked to laugh. His brother-

His brother wasn’t dead. He was still alive. And that was all Ouma needed to remember of him.

He heard the distant sounds of laughter from downstairs and the sounds of familiar voices, whispering, mumbling. They faded slowly and suddenly, it was replaced with the silence of Ouma’s heartbeat. The slow rhythm beating 55 per minute, 54 per minute, _ 53\.  _ He decided to stop counting. It was hurting his head like a knife thrown at his head, though that was probably an exaggeration.  _ Probably. _

And then a faraway thought he tried to grab, stuffing itself quickly into Ouma’s thoughts. But it was too far, far too late. His eyelids got heavy, and just when he was going to reach it, that horrible bear showed up. Black and white with a red eye and a crazy wide grin.

“I have school starting today,” Ouma said in a forced way to the dolls on his windowsill, straightening them. The blonde doll smiled back at him, he turned it around because of that. Ouma jerked his overly big blazer on and put his pants on, which dragged slightly onto his shoes. He smoothly grabbed his black, small bag, stuffing the journal in it as well with a checkered scarf.  _ His _ checkered scarf. He wonders if DICE misses him. He quickly grabs his wooden bat, wrapped a little with a bandage. His hand was feeling better today, and his arm wasn’t sore anymore, luckily.

Ouma sighs, walking down the stairs.  _ Third day on the job.  _ His third day here. And the days were already spindling down.  _ Three hundred and sixty-two. _

Komaeda was waiting there, tying his hair pack into a small ponytail and a hinted somber expression on his face. His green apron seemed to have a red mark on it, though, and Ouma was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. It looked… like something bit it. Ouma doesn’t remember that from yesterday. Ouma doesn’t remember a lot of things though.  _ I can’t remember what I can’t remember.  _ Ouma laughed at that. Or he would have if it wasn’t so hard to laugh. It felt like something was lodged in his throat, and if he did laugh, then he would start crying. And that wasn’t a lie.

There were two plates on the counter. “Oh. So you’re going to school now? Here. I’ll give you some breakfast. Make sure you finish it before my customers come. Don’t want them to think I kidnapped anybody again.” Komaeda laughs, and Ouma isn’t sure how to feel when he hears the word “again.”

Ouma decides not to question it. “Thanks.” He mutters as he sits down and drinks his water. He is just happy to have food. That was nice. Curry was a little too extreme, even for him, but it was nice. He sets his bat down underneath the desk. He knows he won’t eat much of it though, unfortunately.

“Sorry about what happened at Hope’s Peak… I-” Komaeda starts, pricking himself a little on accident. Blood dripped out of his hand though Komaeda just stared at for a second, then wiped it on his apron.

Ouma interrupts, barely touching the food. He doesn’t have much of an appetite for some reason. He drinks down more water. “You know, I think this is just pure coincidence or luck, but I think you and I are similar,” Ouma said in a serious voice. His face quickly turns into a bright smile. “Juuuust kidding. I was lying! I think I’m way better, after all. And that’s clear and true to my pure heart!”

“Thanks for that, Ouma-kun.” Komaeda smiles, ignoring the lie or the truth. It doesn’t matter. His eyes back to empty. It was better that way, better than that look of  _ despair  _ he gave Ouma. “You can just call me Nagito-chan if you want to, Ouma-kun.

“Okay, Nagi-chan! And you call me Kokichi-sama! That’s a lie. Call me Ouma-dono. Why do they call you Nagito-chan anyway though? That’s like, for people below you- Cute. I mean, it’s really cute.” Ouma asked. The complex taste of the curry mixed with bold spiciness of the curry and the water washes it up away. He decides not to eat it anymore.

“Because during college, I was known for being cute, they said. So it just sort of happened I guess. Then I got used to it, and just started asking people to call me it.” Komaeda explained, drinking some coffee himself.

“But aren’t you..?”

“I was different during high school,” Komaeda elucidated. After Ouma stopped eating, tightly holding onto his bag and bat, he waved Komaeda goodbye and went out.

“Can you flip the sign outside to OPEN for me please, Ouma-kun?” Komaeda asked politely, “We are opening a tad bit late today, and I rather don’t want the customers to notice. And then hurry on out, since you need to get to school on time!” Komaeda said, giving Ouma an empty smile. Ouma didn’t smile back.

He silently nodded, going outside the moody coffee shop and flipping that small sign to open. A pretty somber Monday today, just like how Komaeda was, with clouds drifting around back and forth to the sun. That dark grey wall built with cement was covered in a soft layer of moss, those dull orange cones evenly lined up on the bottom. Those plants on the outside of LeChance seemed to be doing quite well, and there was a-

An envelope hidden in the plants? Ouma did a retake.

_ Ah _ . Upon taking it into his small, slightly scarred hands, Ouma noted how heavy it felt. It was a pure white, small envelope with no wrinkles. It looked new, and a few dust marks scraped against the bottom, small, cursive words with:

_ “To Shuichi Saihara,  _

_ from your adoring fan, Monokuma” _ .

“Monokuma..?” Ouma squints, looking at the name harder. “Monokuma-”  _ Monokuma.  _ Ouma’s headache grew worse, and he felt like injecting some drugs into his head so it would stop. Maybe he would knock his head with that heavy bat of his.

_ Monokuma. _

Ouma decided to stuff the envelope into his bag. He’d hand it to Saihara later if he has the chance since it isn’t likely Saihara will see this.  _ Why would that emo looking guy have a fan anyway? And why does it fucking hurt my head so much whenever I think about him? _ He sees an old man he could perhaps ask, but he didn’t feel like asking. If he talks to someone, he’s afraid he’ll break and throw his bat at them.

Not like he would do that.  _ Let’s hope that’s not a lie. _

After getting to the Subway platform, Ouma hurried in, hiding his bat close to him. It was his second time in a subway line, so now he could examine it more. The flickering lights are a little too bright and artificial for one’s liking. It was a little too crowded, and Ouma was a little too small. Triangle hold-ons dangled from above, LCD screens showed dimly, poor sound quality reaching Ouma’s ears.

_ It looks like… What does that read? “It seems the effects of yesterday are still lingering…” _

Kulacking sounds and loud mutters echoed awkwardly in the subway, shaking every few seconds. Somebody bumped into him and quickly apologized, they were a high schooler, and barely older than Ouma he thinks. 

The crowd was a little too overwhelming when Ouma was pushed off, and he dared the thought of whacking his bat at the tall man pushing him. The colors were blindingly neon, ads plastered left, right, up, and down, and almost on him. It was hard to navigate and too loud. Ouma could overhear the talk of other people, the intense sounds of strange echos, the yellow paths he followed to leave.  _ Ginza Line. 1-8. With the little dog mascot. I wanna have a dog one day… I’d probably get too mad at it though. _

Old people talking about the end of the world, BigBang Burger posters hung up with childish pictures and peace paintings all around. Structures with lined up windows, taller than Ouma by more than twenty. A troubled Station Attendant was talking about the train’s schedule and how to navigate, and Ouma headed up the stairs to his left to the Ginza Line gate. He rushed in just before the doors to the line closed, realizing if he took too long, then it would leave without him.

Komaeda gave a soft smile to the customer in front of him, sitting casually on the booth like he lived there. He was a regular, but never so much grabbed more than a black cup of Guatemalan, strictly hard beans or some curry using chocolate in it.  _ He always asks too much about how I make it so good. He’s annoying and utterly boring, but he pays better than most of my customers. He doesn’t even have any hope for his future though. _

_ I wonder when Hinata-kun will come.  _ Komaeda thought to himself, stuffing his Guatemalan, strictly hard coffee beans back into his shelf.  _ And Ouma-kun… I know he didn’t attempt murder on his mother, so I pity that boy a bit. But, he seems to have noticed my expressions. _

A small spider web grew in the corner behind his desk and Komaeda harshly stepped on it. “Delicious as always, Nagito-chan.” The regular complimented with a relaxed smile.  _ If I killed him right here, then he would lie dead and I would be suspected for murder. If I kidnap him, then Hinata-kun would find him.  _ This regular was known a bit by Komaeda to harass young women when Komaeda did an investigation on all his regulars. The reason Komaeda wanted him dead wasn’t because of that. He wanted him dead because then Hinata would have to hide that fact. And he wanted to see that despairing face on Hinata- Komaeda smiled at himself shyly, blushing a bit.  _ I shouldn’t do that. I have people to take care of.  _ That was one of the reasons why he accepted Ouma’s dad’s request for Komaeda to take him.

“Thank you. I know you like your chocolate, so here’s some I made.” Komaeda says in a happy tone. The man compliantly ate the chocolate after Komaeda told him it was no cost. Komaeda added some sleeping drugs in the chocolate while he was making it. He wasn’t planning on killing him, he was just planning on… Spooking Hinata a little.

_ Can’t wait to see his expression. _

“Oh, man… Did it say it was going to rain today?” The man asked, drinking some coffee. He probably noticed a little bit of a sour taste but thought it was just cocoa. The sound of fire was noticeable in the background from the coffee pot, and the smell was most likely overbearing everything.

_ Huh?  _ “It’s raining outside?” Komaeda asks, pushing some hair out his face. He was so submerged in his own thoughts, he hadn't even noticed. He took a small sip of the coffee he made for himself. He glances at the guns he has hidden behind the counter. Sure, it wasn’t legal and he got them in an inconvenient way, but was he ever one to give up on anything?

The man nodded, “It just started all of a sudden… This is why I hate early spring.” The man’s only daughter died in a car crash in early spring as well, Komaeda gathered from his research, and the next year after his wife left him in spring.  _ I won’t say that though. Heh, there would be sooo much despair though. And then- Hope, hope would prevail. _

“That reminds me… Did he take an umbrella?” Komaeda was thinking about Ouma. He remembered seeing a shape similar to that in Ouma’s hand, but Komaeda was pretty sure it was a bat. He was thinking too deeply about Hinata at that time, so he couldn’t clearly remember.  _ I know Hinata-kun’s fine since he always brings an umbrella. _

The man on the other side of the booth leaned forward, “Hm? Who’re you talking about?” The man seemed truly curious.

Komaeda wanted to glare at the man for not minding his own business, to punch him in the face. He was so boring,  _ so useless _ , yet he was asking Komaeda about himself?  _ I want to look at Hinata-kun’s hopeful face. _

“Nothing.” Komaeda smiled, “Don’t mind me.”

The TV’s commercial voice faded in, “-The effects of yesterday’s subway accident continues on today as various lines suffer delays and-” The Newscaster’s voice faded.

The man spoke up again, “There’s been a lot of nasty accidents lately- You know, I mean the subway accident that the news is talking about. Unfortunately, my coworker got caught up in it and is in the hospital now…” When Komaeda didn’t reply, the man continued.  _ I wonder what I should make for Hinata. _

“But that aside, it’s kinda creepy. The people who caused these accidents supposedly went crazy all of a sudden! I even heard that some of them suffered from nervous breakdowns during interrogation... Nagito-chan? Are you listening?” the man said, a little like a needy girlfriend.

“Huh? Yeah.” Komaeada hopes Ouma would get to school safely. If he is lucky, that is.

Splattering drops of water falling from the sky like cats and dogs. They were rather sharp, and Ouma bet that if he opened his mouth to taste it, it would taste contaminated. He wished he brought an umbrella, not a bat. Actually, he’d rather bring a bat because Ouma rather likes rain and he finds it more comforting. That’s a lie. He actually hates the rain. Or maybe he doesn’t.

He can’t remember.  _ This headache really hurts… But I’m letting it get to me. _

A cell phone notification and that black star red-eye app was back up again.  _ Huh?  _ The app increased its size, red distortions in the background starting. His long turtleneck was itching him and his rather large glasses kept sliding. 

_ The sakura trees… This is just a little magical to be here. Too bad it’ll go away soon. _

Ouma could swear he hears the rain worsen.

Somebody-  _ a girl _ , approaches him and takes shelter in his stakeout.

Pale strawberry blonde hair in a long curly mess, unusual for a Japanese person, thick goggles sticking absently to her head. Pale aqua eyes that stuck out to Ouma. Ouma swears he’s met her before, but it hurts his head to think about it. Long pink leggings with a black skirt and a white hoodie with pink and light blue stripes. She wore a black blazer with pink buttons, rolled-up sleeves. Brown boots that matched her theme. 

She takes off her hoodie, looks around peacefully, then glances at Ouma. She gives a soft, meek smile his way and looks forward. Ouma can swear he can see tears rolling down her face for a second and red marks around her neck as if his own vision was playing with him. He feels like crying and yelling. Everything hurts- After 1,

2,

3 seconds, it wasn’t there.

A small white, expensive-looking car pulled up and the window, spotless, scrolled down.

She hurt his head. It hurt so much. Why? Why did Ouma have to go through this? It hurts so much. He feels like punching it. Maybe if he runs away forever it will finally disappear. It feels like it’s blocking Ouma from thinking straight, and his body feels so heavy right now. Like it’s being crushed into a hanger or something.

Why? Why did Ouma have to go through this? Why…  **Why did I have to die? Why did he have to die? Why were we killed? We were just playing the game like how it was supposed to be played! My head hurts so much, it hurts it hurts it hurts. I feel so sick. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I just need to see more despair** \- It hurts.

A man. A man with a thick chin and large nose, thick bushy eyebrows and round black eyes, fluffy hair. He was wearing sweats and a casual matching sweater. He was rather old, Ouma noticed. Around his late-twenties and mid-thirties. “Good morning.” said the man, leaning to the open window. “You want me to give you a ride to school?”  _ School? Oh. School, as in Hope’s Peak academy. Right. I’m not insane and should be going to that school. _

He seemed to be a teacher, and she seemed to be a student. At Hope's Peak academy. “You’re going to be late.” the guy pushes, a smile on his face.

The girl seemed a little startled by this, meekly covering her mouth and gasping a bit, freezing up like a deer in headlights. There’s something about her that seems so familiar yet Ouma can’t put his finger on it. Then in an instant, her personality changed. 

“Hell ya, dipshit!” She shouted with a wide grin, her shaky hands on hips. “Of course, don’t want to get the school’s panties in a bunch for bein’ late.” Her words were impeccably informal and rude, though the supervisor seems quite used to it.

“That isn’t how you should talk to a teacher, Iruma-san.” The man laughed, he glanced at Ouma with those oddly fake kind eyes.  _ It’s… He’s oddly suspicious.  _ “Do you need a lift, too?”

Ouma stared silently for a second before raising the bat on his side to his shoulder and shook his head, “My bat would have a bad impact in your car, Sensei.” That was a lie. Like hell he would care about the guy’s car. He honestly just doesn’t want to go to school. He doesn’t know why he lied. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to get in that car.

_ Everyone’s lying too much. My head hurts…  _ Ouma shivers when a raindrop touches his cheek. The tarp from the store he was underneath wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Our school doesn’t have a baseball team though. Only a volleyball team.” The man said, his voice sounding proud. The hints of the raised eyebrows and twisting grin said so.

“I don’t bring it for baseball. I bring it since after this I go to my baseball practice immediately after.” That was obviously a lie. Ouma just transferred to the city. He didn’t even know baseball, since his last school wasn’t too focused on sports.  _ I was probably the most athletic, surprisingly. _

The door shuts and right before the window rolls up, Ouma is sure there was contempt in the girl’s eyes. A strong desire of hate, burning in her eyes… And something else. Fear? Doubt?  **Despair.** They reminded Ouma of the look his mother would give to his father some days. His headache fades a bit.

They quickly drove away, leaving Ouma alone.  _ Me, myself and I.  _ The water waves at Ouma and it falls at his feet. Then footsteps. Multiple footsteps, one running, one walking. Somebody passes him and curses,

“Augh! Screw that pervert teacher!” The guy says, taller than me by around three to two heads. The boy, smaller, behind him gives a sigh.

“Slow down, Momota-kun…”

“ _ Pervert teacher? _ ” Ouma muttered, blankly staring at the two boys. Something small goes off on Ouma’s phone, though he can’t hear it well through the sharp arrows of water and the grumbling of the boy.

“I told you, Momota-kun.” The white hair guy groaned, “A promise doesn’t mean anything between us. We just went to the same middle school. She probably doesn’t even-” Ouma remembers that name, but he can’t. Neither of those is a lie or a truth.

“Yo, Iidabashi-kun, someone’s here…” The arguing, close boys turned around to stare at the small purple boy with his phone out and bat in hand.

“Huh?”

The taller boy, the one who had originally ran after the car. His hair was long, spiky, and a dull purple that seemed dyed, unlike Ouma’s natural purple-black hair. His face was hidden in a scowl like Ouma did something wrong. He wore the same blazer as Ouma, but larger. He wore a long, cape-like jacket on top of that, one sleeve off and one sleeve on. His pants matched the pattern of Hope’s Peaks but had belts awkwardly hanging from his, and his bright magenta shirt with a strange pattern made it seem like he was violating the school’s dress code. His skin was a slight pink and he had hair growing out his chin. He looked like the type of guy to care for someone’s opinion by throwing it away and burning the evidence. 

The smaller one, but still taller than Ouma, was rather meek-looking on the other hand. His skin was almost as white as paper, with barely any color, sharp grey eyes that made him look bothered, pointy sheet white hair jutting to Ouma’s right. He was wearing a thick jacket that reminded Ouma of a robot, with bulky-looking pockets and going to his neck. One of his arms, Ouma realized, was prosthetic.

The taller one had his hands in his pocket, leaning at Ouma in a strange way. The bag slouched on his back didn’t look much like cover for the rain, and he didn’t have a hoodie on his jacket. “Whadya want?”

Then-

Blood. So much blood. Pink blood. Pink blood flowing down the tall guy’s mouth over and over. It was on his clothes, and there was something about him that made Ouma take a retake at his face. It was smashed, blood and eyes and nothing left. So much blood. Pink blood. He was crying, with a wide grin, tears spilling slower than the rain.

The other guy… The prosthetic guy was an abnormal white, and so was his hair. His body cloaked with strange sci-fi crap that didn’t even look functional. He seemed like a robot. Pink blood still spilled out of his hands and mouth and eyes and ears and all over and over and over again. His eyes were shut, and he seemed broken. Almost broken.

Ouma turned away, before looking back after 1, 

2,

3 seconds. They were normal now, and Ouma was sure he was hallucinating. Was that how they worked? So bloody, so… 

The prosthetic boy turns to glance down at Ouma, crossing his arms. “You better not tell Kamoshida about any of this.” They reminded Ouma of soaking cats the way their hair was slowly falling due to the witness of the rain.  _ Kamoshida. Must be that teacher who asked if I could take a lift.  _

“No. I’d get nothing in return,” Ouma mutters, barely loud enough for the other boys to hear him. Not like he wants them to. He sets his bat down. They seemed to stop approaching him once they saw it, and Ouma glanced at the phone in his hand. His phone was off now, and Ouma wondered how Gokuhara was doing without him.

“Return?” The prosthetic guy asked, a little shocked. “Wait… You’re a 2nd year. I’ve never seen you before. And you’re...”  _ Short. I’m pretty sure it is what he wanted to say. _

“Augh! Anyway, who does Kamoshida think he is? The king of a castle? Don’t you agree?” The tall guy groaned.  _ Castle? Isn’t it because he’s a teacher that he..? _

“Hey Momota-kun, stop your ranting. I think this guy is that transfer student.” The prosthetic guy said, “He’s really short, so he’d be noticeable if we saw him before, and he’s carrying a bat around.” He says it like Ouma’s some sort of curse. Like they’ve heard of him.

“Really?” The taller guy asked, not giving a crap about his friend’s words. “Dude, I haven’t been here for a few weeks, calm down. 

He turned to Ouma, eyes without sparkling with a few drops of interest. Ouma doesn’t like this guy. His instincts seem to fail to work whenever he’s around him and his head gets filled with remarks about robots whenever he looks at the prosthetic guy “Hey dude, are you going to Hope’s Peak?”

Ouma stared blankly at them. To say if he was or not. A simple question, but it felt heavy on Ouma’s shoulders. He thinks it’s just getting to him that the new change in situation is drastically different than he would’ve preferred. Hm… He wondered how his situation would be if he ran away.  _ Would they care? _

From Ouma’s perspective, he has taken into account how Komaeda acts. Komaeda seemed like an average, nice guy, but as their meeting progressed further and further, his personality slowly got more drastically twisted. It wasn't that Komaeda showed it, god no. It was the small things Komaeda mentioned, or those small reactions that played down like a domino effect. Like the way Komaeda apologized this morning. He kept on clicking his fingers against the desk as he poured some strange liquid into some chocolate, and Ouma was pretty sure it wasn’t good. The fact Komaeda casually spoke during that time while Ouma watched him silently prick himself a bit and drops of blood flowed out. Ouma didn’t notice it earlier, but there were guns underneath the bar he saw when he was coming down. Ouma had to guess they were for an emergency, but nobody is supposed to be carrying guns.

_ Would he care if I disappeared? _

“Depends. I haven’t gone to Shujin yet.” Ouma relied in a bored manner, picking at his nails. His hair is wet, so he can’t play with it.

“He goes to Shujin then.” The prosthetic guy sighed, scratching his jacket. “I am pretty sure he’s that transfer student.” Ouma feels like the rain gets worse, and the clanking sounds of wetness hitting hard cement and bouncing off tarps bother Ouma’s ears.

“Cool. This rain ain’t bad. So both of you better hurry up or we’ll be late.” the tall guy shouted, running into the harsh drops of rain settling into his hair.  _ There’s something about these two… That reminds me of somebody else.  _ Ouma couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was a familiar feeling. His head was filled with pain and his ears with the clashing sound of rain, but Ouma can swear he heard a voice.

_ He expects me to go with them.  _ Ouma repeated in his head. Ouma feels like he’s being pushed down and smooshed into the ground. Like he’s dying. He feels sick.

He feels like he’s running out of breath.

“Ngh!” They all groaned at the same time, head falling into their hands.  _ I feel light-headed for some reason now.  _ Ouma wasn’t the one who got headaches as bad as these and sudden fainting, that was his brother’s job. He felt like he should contact a doctor.

“Uuugh, my fucking head…” Groaned the tall guy, tightly shutting his eyes. “God, what was that?” He rubbed his head, looking up.

“Ow… I wish I just stayed with the professor…” Muttered the prosthetic guy, staring at Ouma, who was panting like he out of air, his hands on his neck instead of his small head. The prosthetic guy feels like he’s seen him before. Except…

The prosthetic guy help Ouma up, and he compliantly went along with it.

The sound of rain and the slight mystery shadowed Ouma’s senses, followed with the small splashes from the slow stepping from their wet shoes and the muttering between the two friends. A thin, narrow alleyway making Ouma feel suspiciously trapped, the ceiling almost closing in on him. It always annoyed him, but now, his headache overwhelmed that feeling and was burning everything he was thinking in its path.

It was dark, darker than Ouma would’ve liked. His Nyctophobia was acting up and making him feel like he was drowning in darkness. Faces shadowed, with the light from above shining in, fans and weird shapes placed around, and Ouma swears he hears a cat. It was eerily quiet after a drop of rain would fall.

A puddle, and then splashing in an artistic way, and Ouma took a second to appreciate the way nature worked. The smell here was disgusting though, and horribly dead. 

At the very end, he heard a scream from one of the boys. It frightened Ouma a bit how loud he was. Ouma quickly ran to the end of the alleyway, holding his bat with both hands. Flashy lights burned into Ouma’s eyes, and then Ouma saw-

_ A castle..? _

Taller than the clouds- In fact, the clouds seemed to be floating around it, surrounding it- and the building line was intricate, with edges that seemed to have small openings and towers going higher than the tall trees hanging inside.

The tall boy looked behind himself, looking as confused as the other boy. Brows furrowed, squinting a bit at Ouma like he was the one guilty for a castle.

Ouma didn’t give a response, not even a surprised look, just a long stare, observing the castle like it was just another thing for one to see. Maybe he wasn’t as surprised as one would want. What was the point of acting when there wasn’t any audience? Just Ouma, the other actors, and the stage.  _ If so, then the play has just begun. _

**It began long ago. But never, ever was prepared for one to happen. The costumes, the plot… It was never a play, but a game.**

“We didn’t… come the wrong way, right Momota-kun?” The prosthetic guy asked, looking partly confused and partly desperate for an answer. “Momota-kun?” 

The tall guy seemed startled by Ouma’s face and quickly looked away. “This should be right though. I’m sure of it.” The tall guy looked around again, “You have anything you want to say, purple?” Ouma didn’t reply, only setting down his bat by his side. “Are you okay?”

“What’s going on..?” Asked the prosthetic guy, “Should we go in and ask?” They seemed to wait for a second, staring at each other, then they started walking, approaching the tall, strange castle. Up the wooden bridge, where heavy chains were met and it creaked every time they took a step.

A hall. A dark hall with boards and candlelights and strange crossovers in between a familiar hall and a Victorian-style castle. And then a slow transition, switching to a real-life castle. Double staircases, candlelights stacked up, a large self-portrait of a familiar double chin guy. That teacher, Kamoshida, they said was his name, was the guy in that picture. The guys with Ouma glanced around with a look of admiration and bewilderment. Ouma just doesn’t understand.

He’ll say somebody tried to kidnap him if he’s late.  _ Would that even work? Well, maybe if I got Nagito-chan on it. The human mind is meant to be experimented on after all.  _ Or maybe it wasn’t. How would one know? His headache was fading very slowly into the background, hiding so Ouma would never be able to catch it.

“T-That’s weird… Where’s the school?” Asked the tall guy, pulling his hands out his pocket. Ouma stayed closer to the door, but it didn’t help when the doors only opened inwards, No handle was on the inside. No sign of escape through this way. Castles usually had secret passageways, luckily, so Ouma thought he was safe.  _ I don’t know what I’m saying. _ He sighed.

“We were heading to Hope’s Peak?- Didn’t it say Hope’s Peak on the front?” Ouma asked, tightening his grip on the bat in his small hands. He held his bag closer as he slowly stepped back. He just wanted to leave. He didn’t ask for a castle to replace the school and for his small headache to increase. He didn’t even care about that now. Headaches were just in his head, an illusion in the mind.

“He’s right. So, wouldn’t this be the school?” The prosthetic guy asked, “But that wouldn’t be possible! Ugh…” He put his head in his hands. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” The tall guy shouted, a little too loudly. Ouma wasn’t sure if he wanted people to show up or if he wanted to go unseen. It may be Ouma’s first time in the city, but he was pretty sure there weren’t castles here. Or in Japan in this strange Victorian style. Maybe he was hallucinating, maybe this was all a dream and he was going to wake up in 3,

2,

1… He didn’t wake up, no matter how much he counted. Ouma pulled out his phone and started to search up _Castles in Japan_. Out of service. _Eh, those guys can handle that part._ The tall guy seemed to be looking something up on his phone as well. “Where’d we end up..? Out of fucking service?”

“Out of service.” The prosthetic guy repeated, pulling out his phone as well. “The sign was for the school, so this should be it, but… Where are we if this is Hope’s Peak?-”

Loud stomping, slowly approaching like they were stray animals. A large person, two times the size of the 6’ 0’ guy in their group, at an impossible staggering height. He was well-toned, even when his body was covered with a metal and his face with a… blue? A stocky mask. A large shield and a sharp, skinny sword. He looked prepared to fight.

“Geez, you freaked me out. I thought you were a ghost or something.” The tall guy said, “What’re you? A student?” The tall guy took a step forward closer to the knight.

“Wow… That looks better than something the theater club would make. Is that real metal? And that sword looks really pointy.” The prosthetic guy asked, admiring the armor.

No reply.

“Hey- Back off.” Ouma yelled to the two guys, “He looks ready to fight.” The two quickly backed away, going into the center of the carpet. “Don’t make any sudden movements…” He told the guys, eyes on the knight.

And then another guard came, and the look on their faces widened. “W-What’s going on? Is this some sort of prank? I swear to god, because this ain’t funny.” They both look at Ouma as if expecting that new transfer student with a wooden bat to say something. If they wanted him to respond, they were going to not stare at him like he was going to help them.  _ I’ll just do what I see fit. If they want to kill us, then I’m dashing. _

The knights both took a step closer, a few steps away from sweeping and stabbing them. A few steps. Running into one of the halls would be his best bet since it looks like going up the stairs would result in being sandwiched and going out the door wouldn’t work since there’s no handle.  _ But they might see me more of a threat if Ido that _ . “C-Calm down. Time out, man!” Shouted the tall one. Ouma would’ve thought he would have more confidence. Then again, that would’ve been unlikely in their situation.

“Run!” Shouted the prosthetic guy, already dashing for it to the door. The tall guy followed suit. Ouma sighed,  _ I have a feeling that I won’t be able to escape if I run to one of the halls… I should hold onto my bat, not like it would do anything. My bat may be hard and heavier than most and may have metal in it I think, but that won’t be able to take them down. _

More knights cornered them, and suddenly, they were completely surrounded, no escape.  _ Well, maybe I’ll die quickly. At least I got my wish in the end. _

“Ugh, what’s up with these guys!?” Shouted the tall guy, his wet purple hair swinging around as he turned around to take a look at all of them. But then something jutted into his back. A shield. The metal shield. He fell down in a non-graceful way and winced.

“Gah!” The other one fell as well, being stabbed with the back of the sword to his head. It looked like he wasn’t going to get back up for a while. “Iidabashi-kun! Y-You’re going to break his bones, dammit! If you’re goin’ to do it, then do it to me!” It seemed like the prosthetic guy had weaker bones the way he was putting it. Maybe he did, considering how his hand was prosthetic. 

Ouma put his hands up when they stepped forward, bat in one of those hands. One more step and they could easily slice Ouma in half. The guards seemed to understand when Ouma took off his glasses and shut his eyes, hands still up. They didn’t attack him, curiously enough. Normally, one would attack intruders to the kingdom even if they gave an excuse, especially one that had a weapon. Unless the king-

“Gah!” He heard the shout of the tall guy, fainting. Ouma thought of the events leading up to this day. Everything was so coincidental, and too many new things were happening. The fainting, which has never happened before. The new school and his new crazy guardian. The castle, suddenly replacing the school. Meeting that guy on the painting and the girl in the car with that weird look on her face. Meeting these two. And then there was that stronger headache he got from staring at Saihara, that supposed regular that Komaeda trusted. That envelope… Monokuma…

He wishes he was still at _ his _ house, skipping _ his _ school, talking with  _ his  _ friends from  _ his  _ group, DICE. He wishes he would be talking with Gokuahara right now and going to their secret hideout. Or to go secretly visit his brother. Or maybe he would break into his school from that one open gate and then start to make shifting a long fishing rod so he could play with the first years.  _ I’ll never admit that out loud. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My links for this are sited below:  
> I used my usual links for any additional information about the character's adding. Like for an example, I wrote that the tall guy, who you can presumably guess is Kaito Momota, is 6'0'. Small things like that:https://danganronpa.fandom.com/wiki/Game_Characters  
> I am using JohneAwesome's 136 episode 100% run series on Persona 5 as the reference for the timing in the chapters and just as a memory reference for general. Here's a link to that:https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDwjEcGRHRZ7US0CsxZGwkeELYDVw7DCp  
> And here's an awesome link to BOSS's coffee and curry: https://www.reddit.com/r/Persona5/comments/7xulg3/let_me_explain_sojiros_coffee_and_curry_trivia/  
> And for the rest, I'm just going by memory or by the internet, so please tell me if there's any mistakes.
> 
> And then here's the character chart for the V3 characters: (+The Trigger Happy characters as Personas)  
> Kokichi Ouma- The P5 Protagonist (Junko Enoshima)  
> Kaito Momota- Ryuji (Mondo Owada)  
> Kiibo Iidabashi- Mishima (Chihiro Fujisaki)  
> Miu Iruma- Ann (Hifumi Yamada)  
> Gonta Gokuhara- OC (Byakuya Togami)  
> Angie Yonaga- Yusuke (Celestia Ludenburg)  
> Korekiyo Shinguji- Yusuke 2.0 (Toko Fukawa)  
> Ryoma Hoshi- OC (Leon Kuwata)  
> Kirumi Tojo- OC (Kiyoto Ishimaru)  
> Kaede Akamatsu- Makoto (Saya Maizono)  
> Rantaro Amami- Futaba (Makoto Naegi)  
> Tenko Chabashiro- Haru (Sakura Ogami)  
> Himiko Yumeno- Oda (Yasuhiru Hagakure)  
> Shuichi Saihara- Goro (Kyoko Kirigiri)  
> Maki Harukawa- OC (Aoi Asahina+Mukuro Ikusaba)  
> Tsumugi is there, but just at like, the very end.  
> If you want any more info, then you can comment down below in the comment section.  
> And also, I remember reading about one Ao3 where there are Personas but it's still in the killing game, and Ouma betrays everyone. It's a one-shot and I can't seem to find it. If any of you find it, please tell me! I want to use the idea and credit the author.  
> Thank you for reading and I should write the next one pretty soon.


	3. The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monokuma.  
> It felt like hours dripping away at his life, peeling his skin away like potatoes in the dark, musty cell as the bars slowly approached him like the monster shadowing him slowly, silently, so very silently… Whispers coming from the shadows and screams from places Ouma couldn’t see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will link all the references, plans, and additional situation planning in the endnotes. So if you want to, you can read those and clarify any information you think I missed, should add, or anything like that.

_ Monokuma. _

It felt like hours dripping away at his life, peeling his skin away like potatoes in the dark, musty cell as the bars slowly approached him like the monster shadowing him slowly, silently, so very silently… Whispers coming from the shadows and screams from places Ouma couldn’t see. 

The fact Ouma couldn’t see if they were really scared him.

Barrels were hung around like the metal chains on the walls, and Ouma could only play with them as he waited for the strange teenagers that stayed fainted in the cell with him. The chains spoke no words and only gave him a sharp twist of a pinching wound for his left hand, and when Ouma tried to lift the top of the barrel, he was greeted by the most horrible thing,  _ nothing _ .

_ This was the smart decision,  _ Ouma told himself,  _ I couldn’t have gone any other way and even if I did, that would leave these two, and people probably care about them. Since I gave up so easily, nobody did anything to me, and I was at least able to feel the beat of my steps as I went with them, which would give me more of an upper hand than those guys.  _ He glanced at the two sleeping guys on the small bench.  _ Too bad they took my bat. _

The empty, unfulfilled feeling in his hands...

Hours and hours, and more hours- or maybe not. Maybe it was minutes, maybe it was seconds, but it felt like hours. Long hours like the times he would wait for DICE to show up at his house, hours and hours and hours, until one by one they would show up. They didn’t know. They never knew. They never knew what he was thinking, just like his family. No, that was wrong- They  _ were  _ his family.

At least he had the school bag and his checkered scarf that covered up that horrible stench in the air, making Ouma feel dizzy and wanting to bury his head in the ground. Neither did his headache make him feel any better, but it was fading now. Fading like how the clouds would slowly shift out of the sun’s way and make him look away from the blinding light of the sun.

A groan, a shift, and a scream.

Ouma glanced over at the pile of bodies- Well, the two people on the bench, though one could certainly say they were a pile of bodies since it looked like they weren’t even alive, only grunting every few minutes and keeping Ouma just slightly saner.

“W-Where am I?!” Panicked the tall guy, his wet hair sagging onto his shoulder, eyes wide with an emotion. Shock? Possibly. He scrambled off the bench and glared at Ouma like it was his fault. “Y-You!” There was blood flowing out the tall one’s mouth, but then it flashed away like a dream Ouma was trying to figure out.

Ouma wishes that it was that simple. Then he could’ve pretended to be the person that trapped them here and relieve them of the pain of mystery of who sent them here and they could leave. If only.

The scarf covering his neck reassured him, whispering to him he was safe, that he didn’t have to do that or pretend anymore. That although this may or may not be his last moments, he didn’t have to lie. Lie to the very end. Ouma hated liars. “Yes, sleepy?~” He smiled sweetly, voice laced with the sugary voice he would make at his mom, just to please her. It was always worth it, to see that pleasing smile come across her heart-wrenching face. “You know, corpses shouldn’t speak like that. That’s very bad! Bad corpse!” Ouma held out his finger and waved it around as if saying the tall guy was doing something bad.

“C-Corpse?” Stuttered the tall guy, backing away with shocked eyes, “really? Am I a corpse? I didn’t want to die yet though! I still have to tell Makiroll-”  _ Makirolll.  _ “I love her! I still have to tell Iidabashi-kun to confess to Irumi-san! I still have to go to space! I still have to avenge myself from Kamoshida, that jerk! I still have to- Wait… I can’t be dead!”  _ He actually believed that? _

“Good job on figuring that out! You’re not actually dead, you’re actually my killer and now I haunt you in your dreams.” Ouma smiled, nodding his head, satisfied with that answer- Except it wasn’t him saying that, it was the “him” he made for DICE, the “him” he made for his family- “He” was a lie. Ouma didn’t know if that was a lie.

“H-Haunt?” Screeched the tall guy, looking around, “No, t-that’s wrong! I was… Wait, you’re that short purple guy!” The tall guy pointed at Ouma. Ouma wondered how he didn’t know, “and what’s with that weird scarf? Where are we? And- Hey! Why are you awake? Wait, Iidabashi. Iidabashi-kun? Augh!” 

The tall guy almost sprinted towards his friend, shouting panics. His voice echoed in the room and fell onto him like the walls were colliding. He couldn’t feel his headache anymore, but it felt like this guy was giving him one. The prosthetic guy’s eyes fluttered open, gasping in a breath and sharp eyes staring at Ouma.

It was almost as if somebody was choking him, hands wrung around his neck for a second. Tears seemed to be there, and then the next second- it wasn’t. Ouma had to tell himself he wasn’t going insane.

“You alright, Iidabashi-kun?” Asked his friend, feeling up his shoulders to his arms. To his prosthetic arm. The guy on the receiving end flinched away, holding it dear to his heart. Or rather, chest.

“Yes… Where- Where are we? And hey- Why are you wearing a scarf? More importantly, are both of you uninjured?” Asked the prosthetic one, glancing around with fear, concentrating on something that Ouma couldn’t quite figure out. “It looks like we’re in prison.” He noted. The prosthetic guy handled things better than the other, or at least, slightly calmer.

“Ah- Ahhhhhhhhhhh! H-Help!” Begged someone from out of Ouma’s view, screaming, shouting, and has been for the hours he had been held in this cell.

“Ah!” Jerked back the tall one, uncomfortably holding his wrists underneath his weirdly styled space jacket. “W-What was that?!”

“So…” Ouma started, and the other two took in a big breath, “Would you like me to start on the ice cream? Or the pie? I personally like the ice cream more since it melts. It’s truly revolutionary, don’t ya think so too? Better than the day frosted cake with the steak was made. Ah- But that has to be a lie, since I’m a liar.” He smiled at the two, all nice and innocent until-

The tall one scrunched up his face like Ouma ate an entire lemon then puked it back up, or similar to that method, because he looked like he wanted to shout at him, then kick him for eating a lemon and then puking on his nice, orderly carpet. Though, not really. “Answer our questions.” He demanded, crossing his arms, that disgusting look on his face not once faltering the slightest.

“Don’t isolate him, Momota-kun.” The other guy said, “He’s the transfer student, remember? He probably knows as much as we do- Or less.” The tall one sighed as if to give up. Ouma doubted that was the case.

“I can answer all your questions, you know,” Ouma smiled at them beneath his checkered scarf. “But I can’t guarantee I’ll tell the truth.” The scarf whispered to him- And Ouma swears he’s sane- creaking noises and the silent sounds of the moving shadows, though Ouma is pretty sure it's the outside of the cell and not his scarf talking to him. “Or maybe that’s a lie? I can’t ever, never, always know.”

The prosthetic guy stared at him for a second before turning his face to the tall one, touching his hair. It wasn’t as wet as the other one and seemed almost immune to the water itself because it was still standing up strong. “So,” He began, but never finished, or, at least not that Ouma could hear.

Creaking noises from the other cells, mutters in the foul air, a gasp from outside, small screams of pain begging for help that Ouma couldn’t see, smashing sounds from the guards Ouma noticed a couple of times that were around. It was those small sounds, Ouma felt like, that helped him figure out what was going on here. “Uh- He’s not listening, Iidabashi-kun.” It was the tall one’s voice, Ouma knows. He doesn’t know why he knows, or why every time he looks at him that there’s blood tracing down those lips.

Then it disappeared. Ouma realized he was holding his breath for some reason. He hated that he didn’t know the reason why.

“Don’t worry, guys! I’m sure that this is all a prank!” Reassured the tall one, though that really wasn’t suited for his position, panicking about death and the oh so usual things teenagers think about. “I mean, this is a European style castle, after all. Japan doesn’t have any of those.” He was  _ right.  _ This is why Ouma couldn’t seem to wrap his head around where they were-  _ I mean, it wouldn’t make sense even if this was a Japanese authentic caste.  _

“What if we’re all dreaming?” Pondered the other one. Ouma scoffed, only slightly, and so quietly like all his other emotions. All his other emotions weren’t quiet though, since that was a lie. Or maybe that’s a lie? 

Ouma’s head twitched with that disgusting feeling from a headache. “My mom would’ve woken me up already then.” the tall guy argued. They went back and forth with this sort of discussion continuously. They kept asking if Ouma was still listening, but he really wasn’t. It was useless to argue like that. Ouma’s hand traced the outline of his scarf on himself.  _ What to do… What to do… What to do..? There doesn’t seem like anything I can do for now except wait. _

Ouma took off his glasses and shut his eyes tight.

Clinking sounds ran up Ouma’s ears and seemingly, there was somebody walking here. Step by step… Amusingly enough, it seemed to take forever, and the other two didn’t seem to notice.  _ I think it would be better not to tell them. _

There they were, blue skinny masks and large metal-geared bodies with thoe=se sharp shields and pointed swords. It was suitably fitting how the carpets matched with the drapes- Or rather, how they fit with the castle-theme. This wasn’t a dream, but there was no castle in Japan.  _ Maybe Nagito-chan drugged my food. Maybe that’s what the pills he put away were. Maybe his goal was to kill me. That suits him. _

The others seemed to have stopped talking a long time ago, though Ouma didn’t know, slowly backing away from the guards. Ouma noticed the small sweat starting to drip from their forehead. It was fitting somehow. It made that small twitching pain in Ouma’s head faded away, to see them like this. The look on their face… twisted Ouma’s stomach, making him feel like barfing the curry he ate.

The blue masked guards spoke rudely, and their firm words echoed in the cell, “Be glad that your punishment has been decided upon. Your charge is ‘Unlawful entry’, thus you will be sentenced to death.”

“Say what!?” Yelled the tall guy, shocked as ever. He seemed to have backed up again and was trying to cover the prosthetic guy from being hurt again. Ouma though that was sweet, how he did that. Like real friends, or something imaginable with those lines. His voice hurt the short purple protagonist of ours's head, but Ouma couldn’t help but find familiarity in it again.

“He’s…” The prosthetic guy mumbled.

His voice gave Ouma a headache. A huge, painful headache that Ouma didn’t want to think about. Maybe that’s why the next new words, the new voice rang in his ears like heaven despite their perplexing situation.

“No one’s allowed to do as they please in my castle.” It was a tall sentence and gave Ouma’s heart a  _ thump _ from fear.  _ I feel like I’ve seen this guy today.  _ Ouma noted, examining the guy’s face. 

A bright golden, simple crown jutting out with sharp edges, the same curly locks from that old hairstyle that was popular in the ’90s. He  _ did  _ know this guy.  _ It’s the Kamoshida guy that owned that expensive car, the one that weird girl got in. I thought he was a teacher, but it seems like… None of this should be possible, so I might as well as accept it for now. They don’t seem to be taking it as well though. _

His eyes were golden, funnily enough, though Ouma was pretty sure they were black the first time he saw him. He was also in a ridiculous outfit Ouma cringed to look at, fluffy white fur Ouma couldn’t tell was fake or real matched with a cape- A cloak. A king’s cloak, to be exact. With the proper velvet red and hearts lined up like some stupid Halloween outfit he could afford and decided to buy for who knows what reason.

“I thought it was some petty thief, but to think it’d be you, Momota… And you brought that poor little robot with you. Are you trying to disobey me again? It looks like you haven’t learned your lesson at all, huh?” He spoke slowly, as if to mock them, a grin on his face that Ouma could mistake as a sign of heart failure. He  _ really  _ was a fake wannabe king, forcing Ouma to suppress a small smile in such a dire and confusing situation. 

Momota gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. “Iidabashi isn’t..!”

“And you even brought your small little brother this time… Because you have to rely on a child since you can’t do anything yourself.” Ah. He was mistaking Ouma for a child. Was that why he was gentler with him? Was that really the reason why?  _ The man really is stupid.  _ Maybe it was the glasses that made him look shyer, or how the scarf that subtly matched with his uniform made him look more childish after he took his glasses off.

Then he realized that this Kamoshida guy was staring at him, staring into his eyes like he was a monster. He wouldn’t be too surprised if that was true. Ouma glanced at the tall guy- Though it would be more fitting if he used the name they kept on saying.

_ Momota. Mom, oh, ta. Mow, mo, ta. Momota. That’s a weird name.  _ “This isn’t funny, asshole!”  _ Momota  _ said in a frown, a look of disgust towards the man towering over him by one full inch.

Kamoshida scoffs, those golden eyes glowing. They reminded Ouma of someone- Saihara, was his name? Shuichi Saihara and how Ouma saw his eyes flicker a glowing yellow to grey. He gave Ouma an impending headache just by thinking about him, so Oma flushed those thoughts and dragged his mind to other things. For example, the situation he was in.

“Is that how you speak to a king?” Snarls Kamoshida, “It seems you can’t understand the position you’re in at all,  _ peasant _ .” Peasant.  _ This guy really does think he’s a king. _ “Not only did you sneak into my castle, you committed the crime of insulting me- the king.” He raised his hand as if to think, and Ouma decided not to look at what was under. A horrid sight, really, and Ouma wasn’t prepared for that.

“Ugh!” Momota- Ouma notices how hard it is for him to roll that name off his tongue- grunts at Kamoshida, running up to the curved bars and gripping them, squeezing them hard to the point his hands got red, Ouma noticed. “You jerk-”

“Uh, M-Momota-kun, please don’t do that..!” Asked the guy behind them, a clearly worried look plastered on that pale face. Ouma felt like the world was happening around him- ignoring him for some reason, and nobody seemed to care. Not like Ouma cared. He really shouldn’t care.

“The punishment for that is death, “ Kamoshida decided, that heart failure smile twisting his face like a ruined painting. Ouma wasn’t attracted at all to the guy that was calling him a child and was like, seven years older than him- But still, it made his face disgustingly annoying. Eyes still glaring at Momota, Kamoshida rose the king’s rip-off cloak and exaggerated his hand like a king. “It’s time for an execution! Take him out!” 

_ Execution.  _

That word rang in his ears, and so very suddenly, Ouma felt his guts churning, his head pounding and distorting itself every small splatter of rain was heard, his legs almost crumbling beneath him. Ouma had never heard those words before and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to.

“D-Don’t come any closer!” Yelled out Momota, flinching back as Kamoshida shifted the key through the small hole there was, a funny grin set on his face like a maniac. Maybe being a king- A leader made you a maniac, maybe that’s why Ouma felt so messed up in his head after he left DICE, his home.

“...Goddammit..!” Swears Momota, surrounded by the same exact guards who knocked him out. Or maybe they were different guards, Ouma couldn’t tell. He thinks that’s the point of the masks and heavy armor and no family crest. So they won’t be able to recognize them. Or maybe that was the opposite of the point since Knights were supposed to wear their family crest proudly without reason. Common knowledge he learned in Social Studies one day, and never really managed to forget it. 

_ It’s funny, _ he thinks,  _ how weird this situation is. _

Kamoshida stands in the front of the cell, watching but never guilty. He watches from afar like he was too  _ good _ to dirty his hands. Ouma breathes in the smell of his checkered scarf and looks around again. He himself was standing not too close to anyone, barely counted as  _ being next to the barrels.  _ The prosthetic guy stood by him as well from when Momota forced him to stand next to the small guy.

The guards had their swords unsheathed, shields in front like Momota could  _ actually _ attack them. They stood in front of him like he was dangerous.  _ I mean, we did technically enter. I’m not even sure..?  _

Momota rushed forward, and the prosthetic guy screamed for his friend, trying to reach out for him. He tried to reach out as his friend bumped back one of the knights, glancing nervously around the second he did. Ouma had to hold the wrist of the prosthetic guy.

It was cold and hard. Harder than human skin, sending a jolt of pain to Ouma’s head. His brain felt like it was melting and Ouma flinched his hand back. The prosthetic guy stopped to stare at Ouma with a strange look on his face, then turned his head back to his friend.

“I’m not down for this shit! C’mon Iidabashi-kun, we’re outta-!” Momota grunted, his thin jacket falling off a little. Before he could finish, one of the guards next to Ouma meandered his way towards Momota and thrust the sword on the purple head’s stomach.

“Momota-kun..!” Yelled Iidabashi, wrestling with the arm holding him back and then flinching at the touch. Ouma forced himself to suffer the scratches on his arm that were put onto him by Iidabashi like a cat’s panic.

Momota gasped, both his hands falling on his stomach.

“Nnngh…” He was slowly falling to his knees. Iidabashi bumped his side into Ouma, breaking free, and then-

“Momota-kun!” Iidabashi screamed, rushing to his friend’s side and trying his best to ask him if he was alright when he clearly wasn’t. “Are you okay?! Ah- do you need help? Ah, um-”

“S-stop…” Momota mumbled, “Go… Leave. These guys are serious..! Leave, Iidabashi-kun!” Ouma shifted a glance at Kamoshida, or whatever his name was, and realized he was closer. He seemed to have slowly been approaching them without them noticing, grinning like he was staring at the funniest thing he has ever seen.

Iidabashi didn’t respond. It was like… like a dramatic scene from a climactic movie, his friend staring up into the blank sky- Rather, the dark, damp ceiling above them while the shadows slowly approached them. It reminded Ouma that he would be the one watching the play, that this wasn’t his problem. No matter how much he wanted to try and help those two, or how much DICE would scream at him for not trying to help them, this wasn’t his to solve, wasn’t his mystery. 

_ Yeah, and let’s leave it for the detectives when they find the dead bodies in this place that suddenly appeared that should definitely not be here.  _ His head seemed to argue with him, and his body wouldn’t move. Not like he would be able to leave even if he wanted to.

“Oh? Ready to run away, are we? What a heartless little brother you are.” Kamoshida, king or not, smirked. “But you don’t really look like his brother now that I’m taking a closer look at you… A friend perhaps?”

“He ain’t a friend…” Momota grumbled. Those words rang familiarity and that voice made it more so, the small pitches of his own breathing, watching his chest falling up and down. He stared down for a second, breathing into his checkered bandana wrapped around his thin neck. Momota was right. He wasn’t a friend. But it really hurt even when he said it, with that familiar voice that seemed to make Ouma’s head spin in fast circles and the panic in his mind grow.

“That’s right! I’m not his friend, so you better spare me.” Ouma agreed, curling the corners of his mouth up and placing his hands on his hips. His hands were sore from the time he was harshly holding his bat, trying his best not to slam it into the cement wall across LeChance, his arms from the grim feeling of having it pulled on, his head melting like it was on fire from the impending invisible kicks to his brain, and every part of his brittle self felt  _ so  _ sick. He felt sick of everything. And now this- Whatever this was, was happening. “Not like I’d ever be your friend to even begin with.” He added, glancing at the gasping guy and Iidabashi, “Never ever!”

“Then what’s the matter?” Kamoshida asked, raising his eyebrows, his distorted voice echoing in the small cell all three- Six, including the guard- were in. “Too scared to run away?” Ouma didn’t respond, staring at him with a blank smile, and from Kamoshida’s face, he didn’t seem to know what to make of the little purple gremlin wearing a checkered scarf. “Hmph, pathetic sum isn’t worth my time.”

Kamoshida’s shining golden eyes flickered to Momota and Iidabashi. “I’ll focus on these two’s executions… Heh, the cheater, held back a year for cheating on his test and breaking his team apart and the robot, who’s so weak that he had to replace his arm with metal.”  _ He was held back a year? What does that even mean? _

“He’s not…” Momota gasped as one of the blue masked guards kicked him, “Iidabashi-kun’s… not weak.” 

__________________________________________________________

A punch in the face was a grin. A punch to a slowly coming unconscious student not even old enough to go to prison yet, just juvie, was a grin. It wasn’t a very pretty smile, a crooked smile twitching, an eye halfway open halfway closed. His black hair was still a wild mess, and that neat little crown glued to his head. “Take this!”

Another punch to his face, “Lowly scum!” The guards stared through the blue masks, swords ready to stab through Ouma’s brittle body and Iidabashi’s face. Momota might’ve thrown Iidabashi towards Ouma, but that only left them both in the same spot, surrounded by the guards even more.  _ Maybe if I were to come over there… _

Ouma’s head flooded with pain as he flinched his hand back and the Iidabshi glanced at him with another strange look, then went back to helplessly staring at his friend. “Momota-kun!” He yelled once more again, and then Ouma had to pull him back again. The guy was surprisingly not sturdy despite his taller size and stumbled into the wall when Ouma did so. “Useless pest!”

“Kaito…” Whined Iidabashi.  _ Kaito. That’s his name.  _ It sounded so familiar, ringing in his head like an echo. That name hurt so much. It felt like it was burning into his skull, that name. Like Ouma heard it before. He was  _ sure  _ he did. And that thought inched into the center of the brain. But no matter what, he couldn’t seem to remember.

Ouma wanted to kill something-

“...Hmph. Where’d your energy from earlier go?” Asked Kamoshida, laughing with his hands on his hips. The laugh was ugly and reminded Ouma of a ticklish bonobo. A ticklish bonobo… God, that reminded Ouma of DICE, and how they’d always compare his laugh to something new. It was a game to them, and they would always pay each other for how many things he could compare his laugh to. Ouma started suppressing his laugh after that.

Kamoshida lifted Momota like a kitten with the hem of his clothes- and then threw him to the floor again, his face to the ground and closing his eyes. He widened them, and then coughed. He coughed up… blood. There was pink blood spilling out his mouth.  _ Pink blood. _

Ouma tried to breathe, to speak, but something was choking him, pushing down on his chest like he was a hamburger and he was pressing his hand on it. That was a strange habit he’d do to burgers when he was bored. Though looks like he won’t be doing that anymore.  _ Pink blood doesn’t exist. _

When this play is focused on somebody else, it isn’t his part to speak anyway.  **When the play is going on** . “A peasant like you isn’t worth beating.” Kamoshida scoffed, looking down on Momota with golden eyes in a glare. “I’ll have you killed right now.”

“Stop, Sensei! Have you gone insane?!” Screamed out Iidabashi. The guards still kept their eyes on the gasping guy on the floor, but Kamoshida turned, a twisted look on his face. Ouma stared at him for a second, before pulling him back again and standing in front. “ _ Screeching girls in the back, big boys in the front.”  _ He whispered, and Iidabashi stared at him for a second. 

“What..?” a creeping feeling grabbed Ouma’s arms, the shadows snickering around like ghosts in the dim lights.”Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know who I am.” He seemed to be thinking it was Ouma who said that and glared at him like it was a cat who just scratched him. And Ouma was the cat, apparently. 

“Real good question. What did I say? Hmm… I think I was talking about Minecraft. I play Minecraft by burning my friend’s house. Though that usually doesn’t work.” Ouma said, “I don’t like story mode. No no, no no no no no- There’s just something about it that cringes me. It’s just Door Simulator 2000, and the best character is barely- Well, you know.”

Kamoshida strolled his way towards Ouma, staring down at him, his useless crown glued to that black mess of a head. His golden eyes twitched and that smile flickered. “That look in your eyes irritates me!” He points his finger at Momota, eyes on Ouma. There was something about his face that reminded Ouma of… 

Somebody Ouma couldn’t remember.  _ Mono… Mono… Mono something. _

“Hold him there… After the peasant and the robot, it’s his turn to die.” Momota shifted and glared at Kamoshida, though he didn’t seem to notice. He seemed to be busying his thoughts on Ouma, peering at Ouma. 

The knights- not really knights as much as guards shoved Ouma’s sore arms against the wall and he saw Iidabashi nervously glancing around. He seemed unsure of what to do. Momota looked up, widening his eyes. “No… Don’t kill Iidabashi-kun..!” Gasped Momota. It was strange to see Momota care more about somebody else than himself in this situation. He seemed to care more about his friends than himself, even in this position.

Ouma’s bag spilled. 

It… It was unfair, how this was. Unfair to them, unfair to Ouma. Unfair how we both played the game, unfair about his life, unfair about the future path he would now be taking.  **Unfair** . If only… he could change it. This was an unfair game.

_ This is truly an unjust game… Your chances of winning are almost none.  _ A light, airy voice, floating in the wind like a butterfly. A female, whispering sweet sins to him. It felt familiar, oh so familiar, and rang in his head like a bell. 

Everything flickered to black, and the arms holding him down, holding him down, chained him down like handcuffs burning into his arms. He tried to scream- It hurt so badly, and it made his head felt like it was killing him, betraying him. But he couldn’t. It felt like his scarf was choking him alive. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak one word.

A butterfly. It was a bright red shining in the dark, the pitch-black endless dark with the mysterious hands holding him down.  _ But-  _ Ouma knew this voice. It was… Was from a dream of his. He remembers, remembers that dream of his. The last dream he had on the ride here. Last? What was he talking about? That was the only dream he had, wasn’t it?  _ If my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you… _

Ouma’s eyes followed the red butterfly, going up and down. It fluttered towards him- going closer, closer, and closing on in Ouma, its blood-red colors watching him. It sat on Ouma’s chest, staring up at him with its long, twisty wires on top of it. Then it twinkled into the dark void around him.

A voice. It was laughing, and richer than most voices Ouma remembers hearing. It sounded familiar, even though he has never heard it before. It reminded Ouma of… he couldn’t quite remember, but it was on the tip of his tongue. The voice… relieved his headache a bit and Ouma wanted to drown in the sound.

_ What’s the matter?  _ It asked in a teasing voice- Rather, she asked in a teasing voice. It was most definitely female. It was overly cheerful. But then the voice changed its tone, turning exceedingly moppy. She sounded older than the other voice, and that wasn’t a lie.  _ Hm… Are you simply going to watch? _

_ Are you reaaally going to forsake all of these super dupers upper really friendly best friends of yours to go save your selfish hopeless self?  _ Then it was happy again. The red bricks stacked up onto each other like walls were there now, they were there again.  _ You know, a really despairful death awaits him if you don’t move that shota skinny self of yours!  _ The guards held Ouma down, the chains at the wall were poking into Ouma’s back.

_ Was that previous option to your otome game a mistake then? Waz et?!  _ Her accent changed.  _ That would be sooo despairful!  _ Mistake… The voice was talking about Ouma’s choice. The choice he made… was to come here, was what he was talking about. It was his choice to come, to say he was the person that threw his bat at that weirdo for money, his choice to not betray any of his friends. His mom- That traitor was trying to lie and say it was _ her _ , her who tried to kill that politician. She was always a liar but never as good as Ouma. The lie… That wasn’t the story as to why he was here, whether right or not. The story- The fake story was that Ouma was trying to murder his mother and that the politician was just trying to help his mother. 

Iidabshi stood around, unsure what to do as he wept tears out of his eyes. Momota was being raised up by a guard, defeated in a not so pretty scene. It looked like they were conquered, there was nowhere for them to go, nowhere for them to exit now. They were trapped.

Rising his sword, the guard looked ready to attack Momota.

“You… I don’t want a girl reading my thoughts.” Ouma grumbled, shifting at the guard’s touch. 

_ Ha! That’s what you say? Amazing, that’s so so so amazing. I made the right choice! That look… You look so hopeful. So that’s what you want to go- Very well, brat. I have heeded your result with my amazing self. Now that I realize it, I bet my own voice is getting you…  _ Pain. So much pain.

Ouma’s brain felt like it was melting, melting like a crayon in the sun. He felt like crying- screaming, ripping everything apart. His body was being pressed down on, being crushed between a rock hard sandwich. His body was burning up, and his head was already gone. So much pain. He couldn’t do anything though. Only squeeze his eyes shut- He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream, something was jammed in his throat again, like his checkered scarf was choking him alive.  _ Vow to me. _

_ I am thou, thou art I…  _ Ouma was dying now, wasn’t he? No- No no no no no no no no, he can’t die yet.  **Ouma can’t die, he was meant to help us- help me! That isn’t fair, it isn’t meant to be.** _ Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own hope!  _ Ouma violently shook his head as he looked down. He could feel his heartbeat, going 1,

2,

3- Ouma took a deep breath. His head hurt so much, but he had to remain calm. There were just too many weird things going on.  _ Call upon my amazing name, and release thy rage! Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself!  _ Ouma rose his head, glaring at the king in front of him- Not much a king as a wannabe weirdo that kidnapped him in a weird, empty castle that appeared.

“Execute him!” yelled Kamoshida, a finger pointed at Momota and a disgusting look around it. Iidabashi screamed, trying to get past the guards holding him down- Which Ouma didn’t realize happened. He must’ve been so transversed with that weird girl in his _ head _ , that he didn’t notice. Ouma shifted at the touch of the guards and shivered.

_ Which one’ll it be, brat?  _ Her tone was harsher now.  _ Die here like’ em rats or be filled ’ith power?! Haha! _

“No..!” Ouma shouted, “Stop!” 

Kamoshida turned around, eyes wide, to look at Ouma. Even the guards glanced at him, shocked as if they weren’t dolls under the watch of Kamoshida. “What was that..?” the hand strangling Momota to death let go, and Kamoshida glared at Ouma. “You really desire to be killed that much? Fine!” The guard holding down Iidabashi let go and swiped his shield next to Ouma, knocking him next to the place where Momota and Iidaabshi were originally at.

Kamoshida grinned wide, not even thinking about Momota or Iidabashi now. The guards rushed to hold their spears at Ouma’s neck, and Ouma tried to hold his head down. Momota fell to the floor, tired and shivering while Iidaabshi rushed to his side in silent steps. Kamoshida raised his hand, and the guard in front of Ouma raised his sword.

Then…  _ Haha! You really are a little insane bitch, huh?  _ Ouma widened his eyes.

Wind swirled around in the cage- the cell- whatever they were at. The guards stepped back, lowering the X-ed spears placed on Ouma’s neck. They paused to stare blankly at Ouma, that small purple boy with something weird in his hands.

It… Was a familiar clown mask. A round white-colored mask with big red lips, a plastered red nose, a blue tear underneath a yellow squiggly line that represented an eye, a starlike shape sharply stuck on the opposite side. It was a clown mask.  _ His _ clown mask from DICE. But… there was something different about it.  _ Go ahead! Put it on! Unless you wanted to wear my face- Not like I would mind, but… my god, get that outta my head. _

Ouma hesitantly put it on in the elegant way he did when he was trying to avoid being caught by the local police in his town. It hurt, hurt so much… but it felt so right. It felt so despairful… So… It gave him so much power.

He raised his head, smirking widely at Kamoshida, who seemed shocked by the mask. A red flame engulfed his body, and he would scream, but he felt no need to. His head seemed to tell him to panic- But his body, his body relaxed into it naturally. Kamoshida backed away, his fake hearted king cloak as the flame, the flame turned into a person-like shape, as if it was alive. Ouma could feel it shift inside him, he could feel the grin it made at Momota and Iidabashi’s enemy- Ouma’s enemy now as well.

The fire slowly rose, extinguishing up in the air. Ouma could feel chains as well, chains flying around the human-shaped flame. Ouma smirked at the man in the childish crown as he realized what outfit he was in. He… remembered this outfit. 

Asylum clothes- a straight jacket. A white straight jacket, with childish, colored buttons lined up on his chest and checkered scarf still put.  _ I wonder if you took off those clothes how it would look- Ah! I am innocent! Do not convict me governor of pedophilia! _

Ouma could feel the presence of somebody behind him, and he took a small glance. A girl. A very tall girl around his age. She reminded him of somebody, though Ouma couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Her hair was flying wildly through a wind he couldn’t feel, strawberry pink twin tails with monochromic bears holding it together. A black tight jacket and a white-collar going up to her thin neck, which had a black choker Ouma barely could see in the dark, smelly cell. A long tie going down to her short red skirt. Black boots laced with red string. She reminded Ouma of…  _ Despair, despair, despair!  _ Her voice seemed to be in his thoughts, or his thoughts were her voice. Ouma didn’t know what to make of her… But, she seemed to be helping him. So,  _ for now. For now. _

Ouma played with the chains he was holding. It was nothing like the bat he would hold, nothing like it at all… It was uncomfortable and too light. Too light for average chains. Ouma threw them up to the girl in a weird pose behind him, and a whoosh of wind blew the guards back. The sounds of metal falling echoed in the wind. Their king- Or whoever he was, Kamoshida crawled out of view.

“Wha- What?” Stuttered Momota, shocked. Ouma stared at his hand for a second, gloved with bright red gloves that somehow- Even though it didn’t match his outfit. Fit his aesthetic. That was fitting, how it was now gloved with such a fake bright red… Ouma liked pink a little more, but that just reminded him of blood now for a reason he couldn’t quite figure out.

“S- This girl… W-Who is she?” asked Iidabashi.

_ I am Junko Enoshima, brats!  _

“What..?” 

_ Now listen up, little rat, I am the awesome soul that resides within you.  _ It was the voice of the girl in his head. Or maybe it was out of his head now, Ouma couldn’t tell.  _ If you so desire, I shall consider granting you the ULTIMATE power to break through this crisis. _

“Give me your power.” Ouma nodded, looking at the girl. Her eyes were a ghostly blue, and she grinned back at him like she could see the smile behind his mask. 

_ Hmph, I’d like it if you stopped looking at my chest, but very well!  _ Ouma wasn’t actually looking at her chest, but that scar coating her neck, around and around. A red fiery light circled around her- Junko Enoshima, like a butterfly, a red butterfly. 

“Who the hell are you!?” Shouted Kamoshida, standing outside the cell. The guard next to him fainted and was barely able to protect Kamoshida except being a blocker of attack. His eyes flashed gold, “Guards!” As if dolls, the guards around him stood up. Kamoshida pointed at Ouma and Enoshima- Junko, whatever name felt more right to Ouma, “Start by killing that one!” his face was in an ugly grimace.

The guards groaned, moaning, as if in pain. Then flashed into… pumpkin creatures Ouma couldn’t describe. Its eyes glowed a bright flashy red through its pumpkin eyes. Its head was a pumpkin, a bright orange pumpkin, a zigzag grin, and a little triangle nose. It wore an upright witch hat that covered the top of the pumpkin, and a black cloak on the bottom. It carried a glowing lantern light that helped light up the cell just slightly more, though not lighting up the dense atmosphere even once. It was eerie just how weird it was- It was even breaking the rules of gravity, floating.

Kamoshida opened his mouth, and what came out didn’t surprise Ouma too much. “You’ll learn the true strength of my men!” His smile was disturbingly ugly, and Ouma couldn’t help but shiver at it. But he was not scared. Not anymore. 

_ This despairing power of mine is yours as well!  _ Yelled out Junko, in a weird, rich voice. Ouma glanced behind himself and saw a crown, much more real than Kamoshida’s, sitting on her head.  _ Kill them however you want! Stabbing, strangling, bludgeoning, crushing, hacking, drowning, igniting... Run wild to your heart’s content, my raw knight! _

Ouma stared for a second, his head feeling like it was on a high. Ouma.. made notes of what he could do. He felt a surge of power in himself, growing in him like a flame. He felt like he could… use the power Junko gave him. He didn’t know why he felt that way though. 

He tried to channel the feelings he had on this- the overly strong wave of fire in his heart, and let it out. He tried to channel it onto one of the two pumpkin creatures in front of him. _ The left one, he’s weaker.  _ A large swirly red flame engulfed them, mixed with something black, and then it burst on them like a balloon. 

It seemed to do more damage than Ouma thought, and he let out a large sigh. He felt so dizzy, but he knew that he would collapse to the wet floor beneath him if he fainted right now, leaving the three of them to die.  _ Forty-one damage! _

The pumpkin approached Ouma and threw his lantern at him, at this mask, and it hurt. Ouma was sure it would leave a mark on his face, but the mask in between the lantern and Ouma’s face seemed to stop it more.  _ Ten damage, not bad, but not good. _

The other one attacked him the same.  _ Ten damage. _

“What…” Momota was very clearly shocked. “What the fuck?” He tried to stand up, but fell on his knees to the ground. “Ugh…” Iidabashi flashed Ouma a weird look before trying to help Momota up. “Is your leg okay? You were coughing up blood again… We need to get you to a doctor.” He remained calm- seemed so, but Ouma could see the clenched fist and the way tears started to prick the corner of his eyes. It was strange how he didn’t question the strange situation. He was smarter than the other one it seemed- Or more meticulous, more accepting. 

Ouma glanced around at his outfit. His checkered scarf very well matched it and it seemed like… it was made for him, tailored to his very body. The thought crept Ouma out, that there might’ve been someone waiting for him to come here, to hear that voice in his head, and almost as if… Fate was at its work. Ouma hurried that thought out his head.

“But… What did you just do?” Momota asked, coughing after. Ouma swears he was coughing up blood a little, and pink on his hand. Ouma was right. There was a pink splatter on his hand. Iidabashi tried to wide it off with one of the long sleeves of Momota’s jacket.

“You little…” Kamoshida scowled. He approached, tried to at least, come at Ouma.

Momota panicked, but then ran at Kamoshida. It seemed to be at instinct since he had a hard time getting up at the beginning. “Aagh!” Kamoshida groaned, falling down.

Momota smirked at that response. “Ha! You like that, you son of a bitch!?” Yelled Momota, he placed his hands on his hips, but then coughed a splatter of blood. “Ugh…”

“You shouldn’t do that, Momota-kun!” Yelled Iidabashi, “Ugh… You- You should go grab your bag,” He seemed to be talking to Ouma, and grabbed the weird school bag. “W-We’re leaving now, right?” He looked at Ouma weirdly, he noticed.

“... If we want to live.” Momota said, “I mean, he actually was trying to k-kill me!” Momota glanced around the room as Ouma hurried to pick up his schoolbag. His school bag, scattered in the corner. It was a notebook. The notebook Komaeda gave him and a chewed pencil.  _ God, did you say Nagito-chan? _

Ouma glanced behind himself, but the girl that helped him was gone.  _ Of course I’m not fucking there! Did you say Nagito, as in Nagito Komaeda, that little bitch?  _ Her voice was harsh, and the way she talked about him was rather… cruel. Ouma wasn’t sure whether or not to tell her the truth.  _ Don’t lie to me, I’m in your head after all!~  _ That seemed to be true.

_ Do you... know him?  _ Ouma asked, trying his best not to think about cloud-hair and empty gray eyes. Her voice ticked Ouma off, peeling him and turning him angry. The way her voice was… made him want to hit her with a bat.

_ Your head is just so toxic- I’m helping you and this is what I get? No. I don’t know Komaeda, that fucking jerk.  _ Junko laughed abnormally.  _ Puhuhuhuhu!  _ Ouma could imagine something small, something black and white, something bear-ish… Though Ouma couldn’t quite figure it out.  _ Ah- God, your head is a damn mess! Maybe I should stop talking- Just kidding! You know, you should probably grab the keys, he might wake up soon- what was his name?  _ Ouma glanced at the silver, heart-shaped keys on the floor next to Kamoshida.

_...You talk too much.  _ Ouma thought in his head.  _ I guess I’m finally going insane. Took a while. _

“Grab the keys!” Ouma ordered. “Hurry!” The two guys seemed to stop for a second, glancing at Ouma. Then Momota widened his eyes at the realization, gasping.

He glanced at the keys next to Kamoshida, “Y-You mean this!?” He asked, swiping the keys off the ground. The three of them ran out of the cell and hurried to lock it, Iidabashi glancing down at Ouma with a weird look on his face. Ouma didn’t care enough about his feelings to say anything. 

The sounds of jingling keys echoed far in the halls- Or whatever you would call where they were. Ouma honestly didn’t know. Prison hole, deathtrap, future bloodbath…  _ Maybe I’m already dead. Maybe that’s how this is all possible. Maybe the train I was in when I first got here crashed and this is the aftermath… Or maybe that’s a lie. I don’t know. _

“Okay, it’s locked!” yelled out Momota. He coughed some- And more pink blood. Unusual pink blood. He looked horrified at it- and so did Iidabashi, they glanced at Ouma. “Don’t tell anybody about this.” He threatened, “Or I’ll-”

“Now isn’t the time to get on his nerves, Momota-kun, especially when he was helping us.” Iidabashi tried to calm his friend down, adding, “Especially when you’re coughing up… the pink blood.” His voice broke at the blood part. It seems like this has happened before. The fact he was coughing up pink blood, or blood in general. It all seemed so natural, but so distorting. 

Ouma’s headache didn’t hurt now but was rather making him sluggish, slower, like he wanted to faint. And everything- To the dark brick walls, the curved thick iron bars making a cell, the sounds of water that made his stomach turn upside down, was spinning so much. 

“Damn you..!” Kamoshida slurred. He shook his head, rising off the wet ground-  _ Wait… the floor isn’t wet, but whenever I move there’s some pink splashes on the floor… Pink. Again.  _ Kamoshida was trying to stand up.

_ Pink is a pop color! It’s in trend! It stands out from these damp colors, so there’s no reason to argue it, darling.~  _ Junko purred, and although Ouma couldn’t see her, his face flushed a green. He felt like puking, and now he didn’t need some dead girl- Or whatever Junko was echoing her thoughts into his head. The voice in his head, just in general made him feel like barfing the curry he ate that morning.  _ I’m a fashionista, brat, I go with the trends, so stop thinking about barfing on me! _

“Hey! Are you listening!?” Momota almost screamed in his ear, though Ouma really wouldn’t allow it. Momota towered over Ouma, which made Ouma look up to him. That made him go light-headed. “I asked, what was that just now!?”  _ I’m not sure, I’m not the one with the clown mask on. Oh wait- It’s still on my face. _

“And his clothes…” muttered Iidabashi. A flash of light, warping around Ouma’s small self. It was like fire almost- And then he was back in his Hope’s Peak uniform. The overly big blazer and pants that went down to his shoes, the turtleneck that wasn’t able to choke his neck because his neck was too small, his checkered scarf going down to his chest. “are back to normal? What’s going on?”

“Whoa!” Momota widened his eyes, “That was so cool!”

A loud bang and Ouma glanced over. Kamoshida was panting, leaning on the cell, banging on it, he seemed beyond mad, and Ouma had to do his best not to look at Kamoshida’s bright pink underwear.  _ Trendy…  _ But truly, he felt like barfing all over it. “You bastards!” He wasn’t  _ wrong _ .

Momota gasped, “God, this is effin’ nuts!” He coughed some more, but no blood. “Let’s go! Lead the way, uh- you!” Momota gripped onto his schoolbag and gave Ouma a hard look, “I’d ask who you are, but… I guess I’ll have to ask later. Thanks.”  _ Why is he thanking me? _

Ouma gave him a blank look. 

“Run, guys!” Yelled out Iidabashi. Ouma hesitated but started to run almost instantly after. Iidabashi ran after him, trying to help Momota as they stumbled through. Momota threw the keys into the flowing river below the cages.

Kamoshida was yelling words at him- Or yelling words at all of them. The clanking sounds of banging on the cells. “Goddamn thieves… After them, don’t let them escape!” He shouted orders to the guards, most likely the guards Ouma paused to look at Kamoshida, clinging to the bars like a sloth. “Y-You bastards! You… You think you can get away with doing this to me!?”

Ouma glanced back at Momota, standing as far as he can from the fake King and Iidabashi trying to keep him from falling. The magenta head coughed into his hand before saying, “I don’t give a shit!” He shouldn’t care, because he wasn’t the one able to fight.

“Let’s get out of here!” Shouted Iidabashi.

Ouma rushed over to them and began running, running down the one-way hall, jumping over a severely long bridge that shouldn’t be possible to jump over. Screams in the distance and Ouma couldn’t help but flinch at them. There was no one in these cells, Ouma noticed, which he wasn’t sure was lucky or unlucky. It seemed surprisingly empty… Almost like this place was only made for the three of them.

“C-Can we really get over this?” Asked Iidabashi, “The professor told me not to fall onto water or splash into it as it might shock my… arm.” Iidabashi looked down into the water with eyes wide.

“I mean… On the other hand, there’s nowhere else we can try… Even if I might regret this, let’s get hoppin’ I guess.” They swung their bodies toward the cage on the water- which was probably dirty, and then they jumped. And made it. They stumbled at the jump and fell a little, but they were still up here and alive.

They kept on doing that, jumping and swinging their way through.

And then it was Ouma’s turn.

“Dude, you better not fall…” Momota muttered, “You saved us, so we need to keep you alive to return that favor! Ya hear that! I still need to thank you for saving us and protecting Iidabashi-kun, and for trusting us enough to follow us!” It sounded like he didn’t need to thank him, as he already did.

“No! My ears are as plugged as a clown!” He yelled back, “But that’s one-hundred percent a lie.” They didn’t seem to hear that last part and gave him a look. That Iidabashi, he gave him an especially strange glance. Ouma still had that awfully strange feeling he knew him from somewhere.

Ouma gave a long jump, and somehow, eventually made it. They scurried through the halls, the other two guys following Ouma muttered to themselves about people and what was happening, theories that made no sense so much it made sense in this situation, and things about that Kamoshida guy that Ouma didn’t know was a rich guy enough to make a castle. Everything dizzied his head as he ran, his heart beating 1,

2,

3\. There were cages hung on the short ceiling. People hung inside, long rivers coating some of the walls, they were screaming yet they couldn’t do anything. And then eventually… They reached a dead end.

“Another dead end..?” Muttered Iidabashi, leaning against the wall. He sighed, resting for a bit.

Momota shouted, punching the crates next to the edge. He cursed, rubbing his hand. “Dammit! How the hell’re we supposed to get outta here!?”

“... Hey, you there, brat!” Said something. It was almost like a commercial-like voice… Or something. “Ultimate Supreme Leader-” That gave Ouma a large headache. “Ultimate Astronaut, Ultimate Robot! Look over here!”  **No… It can’t be.**

_ Monokuma- huh?  _ Ouma couldn’t tell if that was his own thought, or Junko’s. If he was speaking out loud, or not. The person…- No, rather, a  _ bear _ . A bear… Ouma’s head hurt. It hurt too much.

It was half black, half white down the center. It wasn’t a bear, really. It was more like a little doll. One dot eye and a jagged red-eye like a wing. A long, rounded smirk. It was… Monokuma. Monokuma. Monokuma, who was Monokuma? Why did Ouma know his name? What?

_ Monokuma. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My links for this are sited below:  
> I used my usual links for any additional information about the character's adding. Like for an example, I wrote that the tall guy, who you can presumably guess is Kaito Momota, is 6'0'. Small things like that:https://danganronpa.fandom.com/wiki/Game_Characters  
> I am using JohneAwesome's 136 episode 100% run series on Persona 5 as the reference for the timing in the chapters and just as a memory reference for general. Here's a link to that:https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDwjEcGRHRZ7US0CsxZGwkeELYDVw7DCp  
> And here's an awesome link to BOSS's coffee and curry: https://www.reddit.com/r/Persona5/comments/7xulg3/let_me_explain_sojiros_coffee_and_curry_trivia/  
> And for the rest, I'm just going by memory or by the internet, so please tell me if there are any mistakes.
> 
> And then here's the character chart for the V3 characters: (+The Trigger Happy characters as Personas)  
> Kokichi Ouma- The P5 Protagonist (Junko Enoshima)  
> Kaito Momota- Ryuji (Mondo Owada)  
> Kiibo Iidabashi- Mishima (Chihiro Fujisaki)  
> Miu Iruma- Ann (Hifumi Yamada)  
> Gonta Gokuhara- OC (Byakuya Togami)  
> Angie Yonaga- Yusuke (Celestia Ludenburg)  
> Korekiyo Shinguji- Yusuke 2.0 (Toko Fukawa)  
> Ryoma Hoshi- OC (Leon Kuwata)  
> Kirumi Tojo- OC (Kiyoto Ishimaru)  
> Kaede Akamatsu- Makoto (Saya Maizono)  
> Rantaro Amami- Futaba (Makoto Naegi)  
> Tenko Chabashiro- Haru (Sakura Ogami)  
> Himiko Yumeno- Oda (Yasuhiru Hagakure)  
> Shuichi Saihara- Goro (Kyoko Kirigiri)  
> Maki Harukawa- OC (Aoi Asahina+Mukuro Ikusaba)  
> Tsumugi is there, but just at like, the very end.  
> If you want any more info, then you can comment down below in the comment section.  
> And also, I remember reading about one Ao3 where there are Personas but it's still in the killing game, and Ouma betrays everyone. It's a one-shot and I can't seem to find it. If any of you find it, please tell me! I want to use the idea and credit the author.
> 
> So, there's a funny thing about how I first saw Danganronpa V3 and Persona 5, as well as Ao3. I first found out Persona 5 from Danganronpa V3. I saw some weird crossover on Danganronpa V3 and Persona 5 on Ao3. I was so confused about it that I literally watched more than 57 hours of Persona 5, as well as watching Danganronpa V3 at the same time. It was so weird. So weird for me to see that that it encouraged me to write this, or it was one of the reasons I wrote this. I also wrote this because of Saihara_is_a_softboi. I kept on seeing them everywhere and that was finally it. Since I was planning to write this story since I got my Ao3 account, it was only a few times for me to do it. But because I had to be going through completing 7th-grade and completing 8th-grade math in the 2nd to 3rd quarter, it was taking me such a long time, so they kind of impressed me.


End file.
